Through a Looking Glass, Darkly
by Malteaser
Summary: AU: What if the White Rabbit had kidnapped Alice's entire family that 23rd of March? Or, the zany adventures of Suit!Alice.
1. Queen of Swords

_**QUEEN OF SWORDS**_

_Upright__ - A complex, courageous, intelligent woman, who may well have suffered some deep sorrow or loss. She is concerned with attention to accuracy and detail and can skillfully balance opposing factions to meet her own needs. She has attained inner wisdom and a sense of truth. The cards is one for women who have overcome adversity especially at the hands of men, to obtain a state of grace. The ability of women._

_Reversed__ - Sorrow for the sake of sorrow. A card of wrongdoing as a reply to adverse circumstances. A deceitful, sly, intolerant and narrow minded woman, expert in the use of half truths and quiet slander. A formidable enemy due to her subtlety and sharp intellect._

When she was ten years old, Alice fell into Wonderland.

Her father had been involved with a project for a grant all month long, working long hours that saw him coming home later and more exhausted than usual. Alice was worried, as a child worries when parents aren't acting as they normally do, and her mother picked up on that worry. On a whim, she bundled Alice into the car and after they made a quick stop at the drive thru of a KFC, they parked in the university parking lot and surprised her father at his office.

It took several minute for Daddy to get to a point at which he could safely stop, during which Alice regaled him with tales from school and Mommy could be heard setting up the fried chicken in the empty classroom across the hall. He'd just finished back up his files, carried her into the classroom, they were about to sit down and eat when the door burst open, and three men in white suits came in, guns cocked at the ready.

"Who are you? What do you think you're doing?" Daddy asked. He was ignored.

"You said he was alone," hissed one of the men.

"He has been every day at this time before," another hissed back.

Mommy grabbed her by the shoulder and began to back away from them, heading for the door at the other end of the room.

"Look, you can take whatever you want. I'm not going to stop you. Why don't you put the guns away before someone gets hurt?" Daddy placated, placing himself between his family and the gunmen.

"That's not a bad idea," the man closest to them said. He holstered his gun, and then pulled a small spray bottle from inside his jacket. Curiosity and confusion dulled his reflexes, and Dad didn't pull back quickly enough to avoid the spray that dulled his features and hung his arms loosely at his sides.

"Run!" Mommy ordered, pushing Alice towards the door. The men came after them; one went crashing to the floor when Mommy hit him with a chair, while the other sprayed furiously until she was as still and compliant as Daddy.

Alice reached the door and wrenched it open, running into the shelves of the closet at full speed. She collapsed in a flurry of papers and test tubes, clutching her head.

"Don't worry, little one," one of the men said. "You won't feel a thing."

Then her face became wet, and the world dissolved into pinks and purples.

Thirteen years later, a woman known to most as Jelly lay on a cot in a cell. Officially, she was awaiting her execution. Unofficially, she was staring at the cracks in the ceiling in the hopes that they might do something interesting.

She wasn't too worried. She'd been on death row two or three times a year since turning fourteen. If her stomach would occasionally roll over on itself when she thought about the proposal that had gotten her thrown in her holding cell _this_ time, it was only because she sincerely thought that the idea was the best idea. It was nothing she was emotionally invested in at all.

Just as the sun was beginning to rise to an angle where it would shine in her eyes, the door to the cellblock opened, and the Ten of Clubs walked in.

"Good morning, Ten," he greeted her, opening the cell door.

"Good morning to you too, Ten," she replied. "I hope you told Secunda that I was sorry for missing out on her lessons yesterday afternoon."

"She understands," he replied. "She was worried though. She heard a rumor that the argument was louder than usual."

And the Club's middle child had a real talent for gathering accurate gossip. It was part of why she agreed to teach her hand-to-hand. Jelly ignored the roll of her stomach. "It's a perfectly viable idea."

"I'm sure it is. That doesn't change the fact that it's been less than a month since we did this. Normally you're more careful about picking your battles."

"I am careful. This is a battle worth fighting for," Jelly told him, hoping that the conviction in her voice could be construed as professional rather than personal. "If the Resistance is in deep enough to off Mad March, then we're all in danger. We need a way to get better information."

The Club looked like he was going to object further, so she lifted a finger to cut him off preemptively. "Is there any way we can skip the lecture and go straight to the raspberry scones?"

"No time for either I'm afraid," he told her. "I'm to bring you to the King straight away. Your idea might have pissed off the Queen mightily, but the King seems to be working from the same aqueduct as you."

Jelly was keenly aware that she was wearing the same suit as yesterday as she knocked on the door of the King's private study.

"Who is it?" the King called out.

"It's the Ten of Spades, Jelly," she called.

"Enter," he ordered. She waved goodbye to Darrel as the Ten of Clubs left for his other duties.

The King was a warm-looking man, with curly hair and a heavy set. There were crinkles around his eyes when he smiled, which wasn't rarely, and more often than not he wore a manner to set the other person completely at ease. Jelly liked the man, and had gone through great lengths to make sure that the feeling was mutual. The Queen was a woman with a terrible, limitless cruelty, and the only thing that could shield you from it was the amiable man with her ring on his finger.

"You're none the worse for your night in the cell, I trust?" he inquired.

"I'm fine," Jelly replied. "At the rate we seem to be going, I think I might have to hide a change of clothes in there somewhere, though."

The King frowned. "You do upset her like nothing else."

_Like he would permit nothing else_, Jelly translated mentally. She took a deep breath then began to state her case. "As upsetting as it is to hear, we do have a security problem."

"I know," the King moaned. "But did you have to state it so… bluntly? The Queen takes her public image very personally."

"I never meant to imply that her public image was suffering," Jelly told him sincerely. She never _had_ meant to imply it: she'd been kind of hoping that the pitch would go off without a hitch. She'd planned for it to go as well as it did, though, so no harm done. "Merely that her old enemies clearly have at least one assassin in the Casino."

This was the point in the conversation where things had gone wrongward. Apparently still smarting from the perceived slight, the Queen had focused on proving her theory wrong. What made her think that it was an assassin? How could she be sure that he was still in the Casino? How could she be so sure that March hadn't been their only target? Was she really sure that there was danger? Wasn't she overreacting?

Thankfully, there was no need to go through any of that with the King. He took any potential threat to his wife more seriously than he did anything else.

"And you think the best course of action is for _you_ to go undercover with the Resistance?"

"I'm the logical choice," Jelly told him. "I'm high up enough in rank to make a tempting target. I have experience with undercover work. It would be very easy to believe that the Queen and I are at odds with one another. I don't think the Queen would mind if I were to be out of the Casino for a few days either."

"That's certainly true," the King acknowledged. "Very well then. Put some feelers out, but don't do anything to compromise us yet. I'll bring the Queen around to the idea."

"Thank you," Jelly said.

"No, thank you," the King replied. "And, if you have the time, why don't you drop in on your father today? He was worried about you last night."

"I will," Jelly said, and recognizing a dismissal when it smacked her in the face, left.

The first thing to do was to grab something to eat- breakfast was all but done when she arrived in the mess hall, but she managed to grab a muffin that had some powdered sugar still on it, and make an appearance in front of enough people that news of her non-beheading would spread rapidly.

She passed Duchess on the way to her quarters, and nodded respectfully. Duchess didn't appear to see her, and Jelly made a mental note to check on Jack when she next got the chance; he and his fiancée seemed to barely speak to each other beyond what was strictly necessary. While she doubted she could actual get him to talk about it, what with him being the most closely watched person in the entire Casino, she might be able to pick up a hint or two.

'Quarters' was perhaps too generous a term for what Jelly was fairly certain was actually a converted broom cupboard. But it had a bed for her to sleep in and a chest to put her suits, so she wasn't going to complain too much. After changing into a fresh uniform, she made for the Internal Security Deck and her first meeting of the day with the two other Tens, Dudley and Otter, and their Trump, Sam. Dudley was the one who ran Internal Security, whereas Otter was in charge of maintaining their military forces. Sam, on the other hand, had retired in all but name years ago, and more or less deferred to her judgment in all things. It was a strange system, but it worked out well for everyone involved: the Spades got a competent leader who wasn't steeped, Sam got to enjoy Court life a little longer, Otter and Dudley got to remain in their preferred positions, that came with less responsibility and more free time, and she got to stay with that extra degree of separation between herself and Her Majesty.

She had already decided against bringing up her idea with any of her fellow Spades, and as a result the meeting went very quickly. No one had found either Mad March's head or his killer, which was the part everyone was anxious about. Sam reminded them all to start looking at what their new budgets would be able to do for them as far as training and recruiting went, Dudley had some ideas about increasing their security she gave the nod too, Otter had nothing new to report, and for herself, she managed to get her deck first chance to pit up against the White Rabbit during the next cross-Suit training exercise. After a little ribbing about her umpteenth near-decapitation experience, they parted ways, just in time for her to catch the Scarab out to her office.

Jelly was the Ten of Spades in charge of the Police Deck, something which had rather less to do with her childhood dreams of arresting bad guys and keeping neighborhoods safe, and more about keeping the Resistance from getting too cocky and having a reserve of Suits in the city ready for action if required. They didn't protect neighborhoods so much as the Queen's own, and very rarely did they arrest genuine bad guys. She took comfort in the fact that since she'd been in charge, they'd arrested very few genuine good guys, but it was a very thin sort of comfort.

It wasn't fair, what she did. It wasn't _right_; but, in the end, doing otherwise would only end with her head on the chopping block. So she settled on doing the best she could.

She kept her back to the windows and concentrated on her paperwork for the ride over, not looking up from the reports of civil unrest and pockets of smuggling activity until the Scarab had come to a complete halt at its dock over the White Rabbit's city headquarters. Then she watched her steps very carefully as she exited the thing. She hated heights, with the sort of passion that would make a very pricey bottle of Tea, but they were the price of being here. The city was far enough away from the Queen that she wasn't in danger of being casually beheaded- but if need be, she could be back in the Casino and at her father's side within the hour.

The Spades had their main base of operations just beneath the White Rabbit's, and Jelly took advantage of that fact to make the remainder of the trip inside a safely enclosed service elevator. She walked into the lobby, nodding to the Club that was newly-attached to their deck- Sheila? No, Shakina. _Sheila_ still worked in the Casino, and was a Diamond to boot- as she passed. To her surprise, instead of merely nodding back the Club called out.

"Ace?"

"Yes, Four?" Jelly replied.

"You might want to have a look in the holding cells. I'm reading a ruckus in there."

Jelly heaved a sigh, and made back for the elevator.

There was indeed a ruckus in the holding cells. One of the prisoners they'd been holding overnight for transfer to the Casino had gotten free, and was holding one of their own hostage. Jelly snuck around behind him and slid next to her top Nine, Othello, who was leaning against a desk with his fingers tapping against the barrel of his gun.

"And this guy is?" she asked.

"Food runner. We caught him in an unauthorized transaction involving some avocados, and found several bags of rice under the floorboards," the Spade replied. "Good morning to you too, boss."

Jelly winced: he was one of the better guys, if not one of the good ones, then. She could tell from the angle of the gun and the way his body was trembling that he couldn't pull the trigger if his life depended upon it- not that that meant he wouldn't press it by accident. "I don't suppose you remember his name?" she asked, ignoring his last comment.

"Bruno, I think," Othello replied.

"Bruno!" Jelly called out, stepping into the open. The smuggler turned around, his shaking intensifying as he saw who she was. "Put down the gun."

"No," came the predictable reply.

"Then at least let my Seven go. Let's talk about this." The gun was shaking noticeably by now, so Jelly lowered her voice. "I know you're scared. You don't want to go to the Casino. You don't want to be tortured. You don't want to be executed. And you don't want to be pushed to the point where you start naming names. Put down the gun and let him go: I'll give you two more days before you're shipped out. Promise."

She wasn't sure if the man was just shaking too hard or if he really had taken the deal, but the next moment the gun had clattered to the floor and Seven had broken free. She quickly pulled the prisoner into a joint lock and yelled out for handcuffs.

"Thank you," she told the Two that had bought them to her. "Take him back to his cell, I don't want to see him again for another two days. The rest of you, finish up with the transfer, let's not give the Rabbits anything to grumble about. Not you," she stopped the Seven. "You, come with me to my office."

The Seven's name was Quigley Tove; he was just four years older than she was, and a recruit that had come from a Suit family, his father being the previous Ten of Clubs. He was a member of one of the eight hands stationed in the city: a quick look at her handwritten schedule confirmed that the hand should be on Lizard-watching duty today. A longer but more surreptitious look told her that the schedule posted on the ticker put them on warden duty, and that there had been no authorized changes to the schedule since she'd entered it.

Interesting. She would have to do a more thorough search later, just to confirm the hunch, but if she was correct she'd found her feeler.

"Take a seat and help yourself to some chocolate," she ordered, when she noticed that Quigley was still standing uncertainly by her desk.

"Ace?" The Spade asked, confused.

"You get taken hostage, you deserve some chocolate," Jelly told him. "Take a minute, enjoy the sugar rush, and then tell me what happened this morning. You're not in trouble yet."

Quigley took a small piece of fudge from the platter on her desk, and nibbled on it for a moment until the color returned to his cheeks. "We were moving the prisoners out of their cells, when Bruno collapsed on the floor. We thought he might have taken a suicide pill, or something, so I went over the where he was. That when he got my gun and pulled me into an arm lock. The rest of my hand secured the other prisoners and tried to get a clear shot at the joker; one of my top Fives, Crane, started trying to persuade him to let go of me: Bruno told him to shut it. That's about when you showed up."

Jelly nodded. "How was he able to get your gun out of your holster so quickly?"

"I-" his eyes skittered nervously to the side for a moment. "I'd forgotten to fasten it in properly."

_Feeler!_ Jelly thought triumphantly. Outwardly, though, she kept her features schooled and responded with a bland "I hope this doesn't mean that you'll be requiring a refresher course on gun safety, Seven."

"Of course not, Ace," Quigley replied. "It won't happen again."

"Good," Jelly said. "To your work, then."

She waited a few minutes after he'd gone, then sent a request to the records department to have Bruno's file be sent up to her office- the original file, not a copy. Then the White Rabbit was screeching at her from the phone, and she went back to being a Spade through and through.

After she wrote up her report of the incident, sent reminders to everyone else involved that they would need to do the same, arranged for the security footage from this morning to be erased in a freak accident involving a tea tray and a bat, and met with Othello about any new developments ("Beyond the fact that tea trays apparently do twinkle when they fly? I managed to make a killing off of the new recruits who don't know about your ax-tease tendencies."), she slipped out the service entrance and went to go check in with one of her informants.

Carlotta St. Delaware was a tough chick in every sense of the word: her normal outfit included feathers and a ludicrously short skirt, but the amount of muscle tone in her legs was a sure indication that she could do more with them than just dance. She could often be found working in many of the holes-in-the-wall Jelly ignored until it became obvious that the Resistance was using them to meet and exchange information. Carlotta could tell her when that had happened: her price was generally a hot meal and a moderately valuable bauble, but there was the promise of a recommendation for the Diamond Suits that Jelly would have to cash for her one day.

Not that she minded, really. For all that she needed someone to keep an eye on the Resistance, she certainly wouldn't mind having a contact in the Diamonds to help her keep an eye on her father.

"Buy you a ratburger?" Jelly asked, as Carlotta strutted backstage, still flushed from her routine. This particular hole-in-the-wall was located about midway up the City, and perhaps half a step up from the dancer's normal employers.

"Today, hun, you buy me the something made with an _actual_ animal," Carlotta responded, grabbing a coat off a hook in the wall and twirling it over her shoulders. "I have a hit, and then some." She opened the door and waited, anticipation shinning in her eyes.

They walked along the ledgeway, Jelly keeping her hand firmly on the wall and her eyes firmly ahead of her, and Carlotta leading the way with a definite swagger in her step. They ended up in one of the nicer restaurants in the area, where they got a secluded booth and a _very_ extensive menu.

Jelly raised an eyebrow. "Why don't you tell me what you've got for me first, then we'll order?"

"Oh, come on, you aren't even going to let order a starter?" Carlotta asked.

"You expect me to buy you a starter?"

"I expect you to buy _us_ a starter. Come on, live a little."

Jelly rolled her eyes, but let Carlotta order some fried rice pilaf before sending the waiter away.

"I have two potential meeting sites, and a name. One of the big guys, I think," Carlotta said, in a hushed tone of voice. "Big guy physically too- Dodo generally orders himself a whole platter of those clam things for a starter, and eats them all too. He's certainly not feeling the pinch."

"What makes you think he's Resistance, then?" Jelly asked.

"Well, partways because he pays with books," Carlotta told her. "And partways because he told me."

Jelly raised an eyebrow. "And you believed him?"

"Of course I believed him," Carlotta said, offended. "I doused his food with enough Honesty for that."

Their starter came at that point; Carlotta seized the opportunity to order herself a whiting; Jelly ordered some baked clams, and waited until the waiter had left before pressing forwards.

"How did you get your hands on Honesty?"

"Another client of mine gave it to me for a job well done," Carlotta replied. "Now, before you get jealous, let me assure you that when it comes down between you and him, I'll be going with my pension plan."

Jelly gave her a level look.

"Which would be you," Carlotta clarified.

"Are you sure you doused his food with Honesty, rather than say, water?" Jelly asked.

"I'm very sure," Carlotta replied, "Because most of the rest of the evening was either spent fending off either insults or blatant propositions."

Jelly filed the information under 'to investigate later'. The fact that there was somebody around- and more than likely, Somebody was from the Resistance, rather than from the White Rabbit, though either would be bad for her- with the wealth to shell out bottles of Honesty to their informants made her feel a bit wary. She would have to go about this carefully though: asking an informant who else they worked for tended to result in them never speaking to you again.

"But you aren't sure which?" Jelly asked.

"You know what I mean," Carlotta said. "So?"

Jelly leaned forwards and pulled a pocket watch out of her pocket. It was gold, with a ruby inlay. Carlotta's eye went wide.

"The meeting sites?"

"The Mome Rath Pub- it's pretty far down, right on the docks. That's where Dodo goes," Carlotta told her. "The Bluegrass is a more typical case: plenty of information changes hands there, I recognized a few of the usual suspects."

Which likely meant that she'd been recognized as well, though considering how many of the people she normally saw lived their lives while either drunk, high, or steeped, Carlotta might have not pick up on it. She doubted that the Resistance would stay there for very long, but that made the information useful for entirely different reasons.

"Thank you," Jelly said, passing the watch over. Carlotta quickly stuffed it down the front of her dress, and began to dig into the starter with relish. Still feeling the dinner she'd missed the night before, Jelly did as well.

She returned from lunch to find that yet another one of their raids on the food runners had gone belly-up. The warehouse they'd been using as a drop point had been cleared out by the time they'd got there, no sign of either contraband nor the food kingpin they'd been sure would be there this afternoon, and worse, the set she'd had watching the place hadn't noticed any unusual activity at all.

Othello was not amused. Neither was she, though that had a lot to do with the fact that she was now required to fly there on a flamingo more than anything else. She didn't have to arrest anyone who was only trying to feed their family, and didn't end up sending the contraband foodstuffs back to the Casino, where it would sooner rot than be eaten. Win-win, provided the Queen didn't take personal offense to the report and demand the sets' heads, but even then, she knew ways around the system. If she delayed the prisoner transfer long enough, the matter was normally dropped.

Normally. The Queen wasn't too fussed about food smuggling, these days, so she put the odds of being ordered to hand over her men for execution at about one to twenty against. There was always the chance that she might order their heads anyway, due to a combination of stress and failure in other areas, though she generally took out those impulses on the people who were directly in front of her.

Yet another benefit of working in the city: less people she was responsible for died.

"Report!" she called out, after landing her flamingo safely on the warehouse's roof.

"I have no idea what happened, ace," replied the Five, looking extremely apologetic. He was a young man just about a year older than her, going by the name of Alban. "I made sure to have two plays observing the area at all times. There was no increase in activity, the target arrived on time, we waited three clicks and then made our move, and not only was our target gone, but the place was empty!"

"So everything was going fine up until it wasn't?" Jelly asked.

"Yes, Ace," Five said.

"Word of advice- when everything seems to be going right, that's a pretty good sign things are about to go spectacularly wrong," Jelly told him.

The warehouse was indeed empty. She'd seen the pictures of the place when they'd first pegged it as a Resistance drop point; it had been piled high with boxes and barrels. Now just about the only thing in the place was a leaky pipe; she could hear it dripping somewhere near the far end.

"Surveillance?" she asked, starting towards the pipe.

"Fragged," Five replied. "We recovered some of the bits, but I don't think they'll tell us all that much, ace."

"You can drop the honorific when we're not in Court and you're not in trouble," Jelly reminded him. "You know that."

"The Queen's not going to be happy with this, ace," Five reminded her. Jelly thought for a moment, and then it clicked: his wife had been one of the Diamonds to get the axe last month. Of course he was dreading reprisal- he had a young son to look after all on his own now. She grimaced, and was glad she was facing away from him.

"To be honest, Five, she's more likely to want my head than yours," Jelly told him. He snorted; the Queen always wanted her head. It was a fact of life as constant as breathing.

"We need a tracker," Five said morosely. Jelly hummed her acknowledgement, watching the way the drips of turned into a trickle on the floor. "I don't suppose Mad March is alive yet?"

"No," Jelly replied. "Ten Dudley's still got his deck running around looking for the head. I wouldn't be surprised if he tapped a hand from this deck to start combing the countryside soon."

As she spoke she moved around the pillar; there was a grate over a large hole in the ground, obviously meant for transporting sewage.

"Wouldn't that be more the military's thing?" Five asked.

"Not when they're on high alert, looking for the assassin's assassin," Jelly replied. "Okay, send the surveillance bits to the Clubs at the station, they might be able to get something out of it, even if it's only spare parts. Get a pair or three going over this place with a fine toothed comb, and another one to follow me?"

As she expected, the screws on the grate were loose, and it came up easily.

"Follow you where?" Five asked, moving towards her.

"Down the rabbit hole," she replied, before finding the ladder welding into the side and beginning her descent.

Something Jelly would be sure to emphasize in her report was that it was apparent to her that they'd actually just missed the Resistance by a hair. Not only had the screws been loose, but when she reached the bottom of the hole, she found that there was a large pulley system lying on the ground in tangles, obviously having just been cut in haste and left with the hopes that it might be able to be recovered later, after she and her Suits had finished with the place.

She could imagine it; they knew they were being watched, so whenever the airbuses made their stop, they made a show of having the same flow of intake and outtake as they normally did, but in reality they were only offloading- the empty crates that the airbuses would bring in would simply be loaded onto the pulley and deposited at the end, for them to be picked up again. The alleged kingpin's visit would have been stage too, of course- but no one had wanted to be caught, so when her Suits made their move they'd left in a hurry, leaving behind some of the broken camera pieces. One of them had realized that the pulley might attract attention, and so prized it free from the sewer wall and let it fall. The noise might have been muffled by the sounds of the set storming the place, or maybe the set hadn't been inside the warehouse to hear it; in either case, by the time her Suits had entered the building proper and begun to search for stragglers, the Resistance fighter would have been well on their way down the ladder. They'd have reached to bottom fairly quickly, but there wouldn't have been time to gather the pulley- there was no guarantee that the Suits wouldn't think of the grate, the pulley itself was too big and unwieldy for one person to carry while running, and the other Resistance members would have already run ahead to-

The tunnel she'd been following ended abruptly in the shadow of the city. The water trickled out into the lake; there was a floating dock two cubits down and about one cubit away. She made the jump easily enough, stayed in the crouched position long enough for the dock to stop swaying, and straightened.

It was late enough in the day that the sunset was starting up. It was shaping up to be a real beauty, too; distantly she wondered if Mount Asclepius had started brewing again. She hoped not; true, the sunsets were always spectacular after the volcano blew, but execution-by-lava was a) even more terrifying than execution-by-axe b) necessitated her direct involvement. Her job was dirty enough without having to throw people she'd worked with into a pit of molten rock.

There was only one boat on the dock, and as she drew nearer, it quickly became apparent that it wasn't the one she was looking for. There was only one man in it, apparently sleeping with his legs on the dash and his hat over his eyes, and she knew for a fact that he was the last man in Wonderland to get deeply involved with the Resistance.

"How was rehab?" she asked him.

"Exhausting," Hatter replied, tipping his hat back onto the top of his head and standing with a characteristically hedonistic stretch. "Do you have any idea what the rehab for Clarity is _like_? It's nearly as confusing as finding a Suit this far down in the city, let alone one as pretty as you."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm looking for a lead. I don't suppose you happen to have one?"

"No, but I could give you directions to the pound if you like. They might have a spare," Hatter replied, getting out of his boat to stand beside her on the dock.

"How about a group of Resistance agents, coming out of the opening in the drainage system?" she asked.

He blinked, and for a moment looked slightly perturbed. She could only imagine what he thought of the Resistance, but somehow she doubted that they thought all that much of him, and the notion that they'd been nearby, this far down in the city, without any Suits to call on for protection was probably a disturbing one for the Tea Shop owner.

His face cleared quickly, though, and he pointed behind her. "You mean like those two over there?"

She turned, and watched as a pair of Twos landed unsteadily on the dock.

"No, those are mine," she replied, watching as the two noticed her and Hatter, and began to jog in their direction.

"They're a bit young, aren't they?" he asked.

Jelly shrugged. "We _do_ start training at the age of fourteen."

"Yeah, but isn't it a bit dangerous, being posted in the city?" Hatter asked.

_Not moreso than being posted in the Casino, especially for Felicity_, she thought, but didn't say, choosing to shrug again. It wasn't the sort of thing you said to a non-Suit, even one who was nearly as much a part of government as they were.

The pair slowed and drew their weapons as they approached. She felt, rather than saw, Hatter tense beside her.

"Ace?" questioned Moran.

"He's not a suspect," she informed them. They reholstered their weapons, and Hatter relaxed. "I thought he might be a witness, but…"

"But I'm much too tired for that," he told them. "Rehab, and then having to drive this from the other side of the city. I'm never doing that again."

Jelly nearly laughed- Hatter was good about not letting things get _too_ out of control, but somehow he ended up in the Hospital of Dreams every other month anyway- but was cut short by the sound of her EP beeping.

"Is that your wrist making that sound?" Hatter asked.

"No, it's the electric pigeon attached to my wrist," she replied, pulling back her sleeve and flipping it open.

"Huh," Hatter remarked. "I always wondered what those were for."

"We generally have them turned off when we're," she stopped mid-sentence, and re-scanned the message. "Which of you is the faster climber?" she asked the pair.

The Twos exchanged glances, and then Moran raised his hand. "Go back up to the warehouse, get my flamingo and bring it down here as quick as you can. Run."

"Yes, ace," the Two replied, and took off.

"Found your lead?" Hatter asked.

"Even better," Jelly said, tapping out instructions for a hand to be sent to the coordinates she'd received, and then to proceed under the contingency plan she'd come up with for just such an occasion. "I've found a bad guy."

The fact that so few of the people she arrested were bad guys had a lot to do with the fact that the Queen's official policy for sociopaths, hit men, and serial killers tended towards recruitment rather than execution as per nearly every other type of person she could think of. It was one of those inner-workings of government that was a little _too _well known: your average citizen likely thought that everyone in a Suit was a psychotic murderer, and she sometimes thought that idea was the reason why there was always at least one wise-guy who came to visit the recruiter with a cadaver in tow.

She did try to disabuse people of that notion, back when she'd earned her ace's jacket, and didn't tire as easily with people. But one visit from Mad March tended to undo whatever progress she'd made and paint her a liar as well, so she stopped, and focused her efforts on recruiting fewer confirmed killers. It was working too, especially once she managed to convince the King that mass murderers tended to have less respect for authority than they did for human life, and therefore didn't make very suitable employees.

Even before that though, there were a few cases where one of Wonderland's more violently insane citizens crossed a few too many lines; the Queen might not recognize any constraints on her behavior, but she certainly imposed them on other people, and the more cynical part of Jelly rather thought the idea of being upstaged by a commoner bothered her far more than what said commoner was actually doing.

She didn't particularly care why, these days, only that she was always relieved when Sam came back from the Throne Room with orders for arrest, rather than a new assassin. Even bigger was the relief when she got to carry those orders out. Biggest of all was when she managed to get the job offer rescinded.

"Magpie" (as they were calling this particular killer) had made a pretty big mistake when they chose the daughter of an Eggman and Diamond to turn into jewelry. The only person who was allowed to harm a Suit was the Queen, and anyone who did so without her nod had a tendency to die an unlamented death.

"Everything in place?" she asked Othello.

"No, I sent everyone home early instead," he replied. "Because this plan of yours is insane and has no chance of working."

Jelly stared at him a moment. Really, compared to some of the stuff they'd done over the years, this was nothing. "You do know that you've said that about all my plans- and they've all worked just fine, right?"

"Except for that one time when-"

"Okay, I admit that bit with the radishes was a little overambitious," Jelly said impatiently. "Is everyone in place, _Nine_?"

"Yes," Othello said. "Just like they've been every other time you've asked me that question."

He was lucky enough not to have any produce-related incidents in his background, so Jelly merely unholstered her gun and said "Let's be good guys."

The school Magpie had been working a nightshift in had been quickly and quietly cleared out while Jelly and Othello kept her distracted. Magpie had given them all the gory details; so sure that they were like her, that they were here to give her accolades and free reign over the city.

She'd reacted to the order of arrest in the expected violent manner; in addition to the normal concealed weaponry and resistance, she'd managed to get in a few too many lucky shots, leaving Jelly gasping for breath on the floor and Othello clutching at a stab wound in his arm.

"Really? A gun that turns into a knife?" she asked, levering herself off the floor. She had a love/hate relationship with body armor; on the one, it was better to be shot with it than without it. On the other, it always took her by surprise how much getting shot hurt anyway.

There was a shout from the hall as Magpie discovered that, rather than potential hostages, the school was full of armed, angry Spades.

"Yeah," Othello said, making his way over to where the first aid kit was displayed, covered in happy faces, fluffy white rabbits, and the slogan _Thank the Queen_. "When that's missing from our contraband shipment, it'll have nothing to do with the fact that I got one just like it, okay?"

"Works for me," Jelly said. "Just try and keep it out of the paperwork."

When they were good they were very, very good; it made up for all the times when they had to be bad, if only in their own heads.

In addition to a child-mutilating serial killer, they'd scored a major bust on a prostitution ring, big enough that Jelly was able to let all the ones who were obviously children or there against their will go without endangering their quota. The hand that was in charge of Lizard-sitting that day reported no incidents or injuries. All in all, today had been a good day.

But it wasn't over yet.

First there was the paperwork to deal with. She tapped out her reports on the failed food smuggling bust and the successful serial killer catch, and after a moment's thought, decided that they were best read in that order. The successful prostitution ring bust went after it, and she put the neutral Lizard-sitting report before that. The only thing missing was this morning's incident. That report was sitting on her desk, right on top of Bruno's file.

She thought for a moment, then realized that, from a certain point of view, she had been more or less been ordered to let the guy go free.

"Seven!" she called out. Three men turned to face her, wearing varying expressions of confusion. She mentally rolled her eyes a little. "Seven Tove, would you go fetch Bruno and bring him into my office please?"

She really wished, for the sake of everyone, that she could teach some of her Suits how to hide their body language- especially the ones who hadn't grown up in Court like she had. The pair of them were entirely too comfortable with being in each other's personal space, for all that they didn't so much as look the other full in the eye.

"Close the door behind you, Seven," she ordered. Quigley did so.

"Gentlemen, this," she held up one hand, "is this morning's incident report, as well as your file, Bruno. And this," she held up her other, "is a lighter." She clicked the switch to demonstrate. "Before I introduce one to the other, I'm going to need some answers. Do we understand each other?"

They were both wearing identical expressions of confusion, but they nodded anyway.

"Good," Jelly said. "Are either of you a member of the Resistance?"

Resounding silence answered her.

"Okay, let me ask you something a little less self-incriminating," she conceded. "Do either of you have contacts in the Resistance?"

"Yes," blurted out Quigley. Bruno gave him an unimpressed glare, but the Spade moved forwards anyway. "I'm not sure quite sure what his capacity is, but he's definitely a member."

Jelly decided against asking who 'he' was directly. "Can you put me in contact with him?"

"To what end?" Bruno asked.

"I need an out," Jelly told him. There. She'd actually said it. "I'm sure this will come as a shock, but I actually hate this job with a burning passion."

Quigley looked even more confused. Bruno leaned forwards and let his handcuffs clink significantly on the desk. "Why should I believe you?"

For an answer, Jelly turned to Quigley and asked: "Where was I last night?"

"You were in the holding cells back at the Casino, I guess," Quigley said, with the air of someone who expected to be informed that she'd actually been out frolicking with unicorns.

She nodded and said. "Bruno looks confused, why don't you explain for him?"

"She and the Queen had a falling out," Quigley said. "They do that. A lot, come to think of it."

"I have the King's favor, at least. That could give at any minute, though," Jelly explained. "So, I repeat: I need an out."

"Of the Suits?" Bruno asked.

"Of Wonderland," she replied.

"Not to shoot myself in the foot or anything," Quigley said. "But why not go to the White Rabbit instead of us?"

Both she and Bruno stared at him.

"I'm going to have to _insist_ that you attend a refresher for gun safety, Seven," she said. "But in answer to your question- Agent White and I don't exactly get along. I don't trust him not to turn me in or simply shoot me in the back himself, which would rend the whole thing pointless."

"Since I'm already going to be mixed in with the Twos anyway," Quigley began. "What makes you think the Resistance is going to be any friendlier?"

"The fact that I'll be coming with information," Jelly said.

"What information?"

"That'll depend on what he asks."

The men exchanged looks. Jelly flapped the papers a bit. "I have a Scarab to catch soonish. Make up your minds."

"I can't promise you that he'll go for it," Bruno said. "I'll try, though."

"See that you do," Jelly said, and then turned expectantly to Quigley.

"I will too," he promised. Jelly continued to stare at him, until he blushed, and fumbled for his keys. "Um, should I?"

"Go take him outside and then let him go," Jelly said, clicking the lighter on. "If anyone asks, he took a long walk off a short ledge."

The door closed just as the paper was beginning to burn.

The ash had just begun to settle in the trashcan when her top Nine walked into her office without bothering to knock.

"Funny thing about these surveillance devices," Othello said, pulling out the chair from her desk. "They keep breaking." He dislodged the camera from the wall and let it smash on the floor. "We should really do something about that." He then jumped on the pieces for good measure.

"I was about to do that, you know," she told him.

"I'm being serious," Othello continued, as though he hadn't said anything. "It's all very well for them to be this easy to destroy for when we're 'building community relations' and whatnot," There was the sound of glass and silicon shattering from outside; Othello raised his eyebrow and closed the door. "And morale's certainly improved since we started letting the other Suits smash them as needed. But we also need them to hold up to the Resistance a little better- it's not like we can't bring them out 'round the back and shoot them if need be. We need something hardier."

She nodded reluctantly. Actually, they should probably have something with a live feed, like the one that came in from the Eye Room sometimes, rather than something that caught stills three times a minute and stored them on site. However, she'd decided early on in her career that she'd live longer if their cameras sucked a bit. Othello had a point- they were here to catch Resistance members along with genuinely destructive criminals, and sometimes they ran out of destructive criminals.

"Speaking of camera smashing," Othello continued. "Why is Tove signed up for the gun safety refresher?"

"He's deficient in irony. I'm hoping to cure him of that," Jelly replied.

Othello thought about that. "Because a gun refresher course would fix that better than, say, pressing Hatter for a bottle of Sarcasm?"

"Yes," Jelly replied. It was the most honest thing she'd said all day.

Othello looked at her for a minute, then pulled the chair back to the desk and sat down. "You know, we don't always understand that way your brain works, but we follow you anyway because your plans generally work out. Except for the radishes, but even then, we got our man in the end."

He waited, fiddling with his bowtie expectantly. Jelly struggled with herself a bit. They'd had these types of conversations before, and for all his inevitable complaining, Othello had stood by her, whether the next words out of her mouth were something as crazy as 'Well, first I'm going to need a chicken,' or a treasonous as 'we need to open a dialogue with the food smugglers'. But this was different; this was dangerous in ways even coming to terms with potential Resistance agents paled before. She settled on another honest statement. "It's probably better for you if you don't know."

"Fair enough." Othello shrugged. "Just don't get yourself killed. I like the way my life expectancy has crept up since you got here."

He stood up, and kicked the camera bits out of the door's path. "I'm out early tonight."

"Have fun on your date," Jelly said, sweeping the reports she was going to file off her desk and into a folder. "But not so much fun that I don't see you here tomorrow."

Othello rolled his eyes and left, and Jelly followed shortly after, locking the door behind her. She'd pretend that the camera broke overnight.

The Scarab had just arrived, but would only wait as long as it took for the White Rabbit to load their Oysters up, so Jelly had to hand control over to her other Nine, Uthar, with a rushed "Congratulations, you have the run of the place, don't use it for strippers," and leave as he was still spluttering that he never even thought of strippers, not even once. Uthar was a good guy, and crack shot, but he was a great lover of rules, and her unorthodox policy of 'let's do whatever is going to get the least number of people killed' was pretty harsh on the rules. The fact that she could sometimes get the rules changed to reflect said policy was only a minor balm for his nerves.

She managed to find a seat in the center of the Scarab for the trip home, and disembarked just as the stars were beginning to sparkle. The Casino was quieter at night, especially since Jack's parties had been tamped down on, and it made the way her boots clunked along the hallway and her key slide into the lock seem too loud.

Sam's office was empty, as it general was after supper, and Jelly deposited her file on the desk, turned on the lamp, and then sat herself down in his chair to read. There wasn't very much to report on: Still no word on either Mad March's head or his killer. Otter reported a minor incident involving a Lust-steeped Diamond and a good-looking Oyster. Dudley had put in a request for one of her hands- she decided to sleep on that. If she were going to be in deep cover, she'd feel better knowing that her station was sporting a full deck. There were, in total, forty-three executions ordered throughout the day, of which only twelve would actually take place. Jack's guard's status report was also incident free- he'd neither tried to run away nor had anything smuggled in to him.

She remembered Duchess' preoccupied expression that morning, and decided that she had time. What with Mad March to resurrect and everything, Dad probably wouldn't even be off work yet.

Things became busier as she reached the Royal Wing- there were still a few courtiers milling about here and there, and several of Darrel's men engaged keeping their glasses topped off and keeping things from getting out of order. The people thinned out again as she came to the actual quarters- the only two Suits she could see were the two guards Otter had posted outside Jack's room after dark.

"Ace," the top Six- Albus, she thought he was called- acknowledged. She nodded back, and knocked on the door.

"Come in, Jelly," Jack replied.

She entered, eyebrow raised. Jack raised his eyebrow right back. "What?"

"How did you know it was me?" Jelly asked.

"You're the only who bothers to knock," he replied, gesturing towards the small blue setae.

"Well, I wouldn't want to walk in on you and Duchess," Jelly joked as she sat down, hoping that he might let something drop about what was going on.

But she was disappointed. Jack merely began to fiddle with his cufflinks and replied "No, you wouldn't," before immediately changing the subject by asking "What brings you here?"

"We haven't really talked in a while," she said. "I thought maybe we could grab some dinner. It wouldn't violate your curfew if the guards came with."

Jack's face didn't quite fall at that last statement, but it was a close thing. "I don't suppose you could give them the night off?"

"No," Jelly replied. She felt for the prince, she really did- but his freedom wasn't worth the heads that would roll should the Queen found out.

"Well then," Jack said. "I think I'll stick with my original plan, and turn in early. If would be so kind?"

He indicated the door with a grand sweep of his arm.

"Of course," Jelly said, not willing to push things further. She'd have to ask Duchess if she wanted the heads up on potential problems in Court's working. She should probably talk to Duchess anyway, but it was difficult to do these days without wondering who exactly she was talking to. "Good night, Jack."

"Goodbye, Ten."

She made a stop to the mess anyway, and after a thought, she had the Club working at it fix her two dinners as he exchanged gossip with her. His consisted mostly of an over-the-top retelling of the incident with the Diamond and the Oyster, but he did let slip that the Queen was getting antsy about Mad March's lack of resurrection. That made up her mind for her- come morning, she would give Dudley a hand. The last thing she wanted was for her father's head to end up under the axe, and if nothing else, the killer could tell them where to find the head.

Speaking of her father, as she rounded the corner into the hallway where he lived she saw him balancing two boxes of take-away in one hand as he unlocked the door with the other.

"It looks like we both had the same idea," she said.

"Great minds, Jellybean," Dad joked as he pushed the door in. "Great minds."

They ended up stealing the best bits of each meal as they balanced the containers on the kitchen sink, the kitchen table having long been buried under read-out, projections, graph paper and a ticker. As they ate, she checked him over. He looked tired, worn- then again, he had looked so pretty much since Mom had been executed. Things had gotten worse lately. He seemed _empty_, some times. He was starting to space out; he bumped into things he should have been able to avoid, and sometimes seemed like he was just… not there. She'd woken up a few weeks ago to find him sitting in bed, crying, and he couldn't tell her why. It was terrifying.

She blamed the recent provisions that allowed the White Rabbit to kidnap juvenile Oysters. She didn't like to think about it too much, but she did remember that Dad had had even less choice about his profession than she had had with hers. Given one, he would have chosen just about anything else- but the Queen needed his expertise, and so he became Carpenter.

But that was beside the point. The point was that Wonderland was killing her father, and things had just hit a sharp decline. She needed to get him out. She needed to get him back home.

And with the belligerence of the White Rabbit and things accelerating wrongwards, that left one option: sell out herself and everything she knew to the Resistance, in return for his safe passage. She wasn't sure if it was enough- all other things aside, she was pretty sure the Resistance would be reluctant to help a Suit like her. At the very least, they might up the price out of spite. It was why she needed to go about this carefully: if the King thought that she was in deep cover, it would keep her father safe from reprisals, and give her a way back in if she needed one.

Things were going about as smoothly as could be expected, though, so she forced herself to get off that particular train of thought, and concentrate on telling Dad what she'd done at work that day, skipping merrily over the part where she'd been shot, and concentrating on the failed food bust, which he would consider much more cheery news. He didn't say much about his work, but then again he rarely did, and before long they were shoveling the remains of their dinner down the compacter.

"Are you staying tonight?" Dad asked.

"Yeah," Jelly replied. "I don't have anywhere else to be."

Technically speaking, her room had been converted into Dad's study when she'd begun her Spade training. Realistically speaking, it was something that had been done at the insistence of the Queen, and with her quarters being what they were and her father being who he was, Jelly found she much preferred sleeping next to the ironically empty desk that three floors down and four corridors across. She doubted they were fooling many people, but the request had been unusual enough that it passed without comment. Most Suits lived with their parents until they began courting, and as Jelly hadn't had much time to think about who she might like to settle down with, let alone start the process.

She pulled on her sleepwear, folding her suit and putting it on the desk. Then she poked her head into the kitchen, where Dad was seated at the kitchen table.

"I think I'm going to turn in," she called. There was no reply. "Dad?"

Nothing. She walked over to where he was seated, staring off into space.

"Dad," she called again. There wasn't so much as a blink. She took a deep breath, and then put her hand on his shoulder. "Daddy."

He jerked, looking surprised to find her there. "I'm sorry Jellybean," he apologized, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's late. I think I'm going to turn in."

"Yeah, me too," she replied. "Good night, Dad."

"Good night."

She walked into her room, drawing the curtains shut behind her and sitting shakily down on her bed.

It was going to be okay. He'd get better once he was out of Wonderland. He had too.

She repeated it over and over again to herself until she finally managed to fall asleep.


	2. Nine of Wands

**_NINE OF WANDS_**

_Upright - Order, discipline an unassailable position. Any opposition will be defeated. Courage in the face of attack or adversity and a stability that cannot be removed. Good health._

_Reversed - Lack or inability to give and take. Projects pursued that are destined to fail because of their impractical nature. Delays and disarray. Card could indicate possible poor or ill health. A secure position that is no longer. Personality flaws._

When Alice was twelve years old, she learned what being a member of Court meant.

She'd come home from school to find the apartment empty. It was unusual, but not unheard of; her father was Carpenter and her mother a Seven of Clubs in the medical deck. Their work had a tendency to overflow. She'd been a little annoyed by this; she wasn't allowed to go out without the permission of one of her parents, and she, Cricket, and Grace were supposed to meet up that afternoon and see if they couldn't find the secret passage that lead into the hedge labyrinth. Jack might even join them, after his tutor had left and he managed to sneak out of his room.

She did her homework easily enough- all her schoolwork was easy. Her teacher, Fletcher, said that it was her father's scientist blood that made it seem that way. Privately, she just thought that copying the same things out over and over again was just plain stupid.

Speaking of private, she'd messed up her name again. She blacked out 'Alice' with her pen and wrote 'Jelly' above it. That was another one of her parents' rules: she wasn't supposed to forget that she was Alice, but she wasn't allowed to tell anyone else. She wasn't even supposed to react if someone called her Alice, and she should always introduce herself and refer to herself as Jellybean, or simply Jelly, if she liked. 'Doublethink' her father called it. That wasn't what the word actually meant, her mother had said, but her father explained that it captured the level of cognitive dissonance involved rather nicely.

Alice wasn't very sure what any of that meant. The word dissonance hadn't even been in the dictionary. She supposed that it didn't matter very much. She was called Jelly now, and that was the end of it.

It wasn't until the sun had begun to set that she began to get worried.

There weren't phones in Wonderland, and she couldn't get an EP until she was a Suit. Grace's mother would be home soon, though, and if there was trouble and her parents were around, she was supposed to go straight to Honoria. She watched the shadows creep across the room a while longer, planning on waiting until the kitchen table's hit the sink. They were normally touching when she got back from playing and Grace went home to her mother. She'd wait until then, and if neither of her parents were home yet, she'd go.

Before that happened, though, there was a knock on the door. Breathing a sigh of relief, she raced across the room and flung open the door.

It was Jack.

"Jelly, I'm sorry," he started. "I'm so sorry, I tried to talk them out of it, but they wouldn't listen!"

The only time Jelly had ever heard Jack apologize unprompted was to Grace, just after her father had been executed. She leaned heavily against the door, holding on to the knob as the story came out in bits and bobs.

Her mother, as it turned out, had been treating Suits for Tea addiction. This was strictly against the law; the Queen had declared Tea to be a non-addictive substance. You did not become an addict, you merely overdosed because you were using it the wrong way, which was certainly your own fault rather than hers. If you weren't swelling up from Self-Importance or floating from Flying High, then there was no problem. Saying otherwise was treason, and her mother had said otherwise and more. Her father had walked in while they were arresting her and tried to stop it, but he was an Eggman, not a Spade, a White Rabbit, or even a Lizard. It hadn't worked.

"Mother had her executed," Jack said. "And they took your father to the Truth Room."

Jelly remained where she was, processing. Dimly, she heard a commotion start up at the far end of the hall.

"There he is!"

Darrel appeared, his Five's robes rumpled and his face ruddy. "What are you thinking, running away like that, Your Highness? Did you not notice what sort of mood Her Majesty's in?"

He looked at her, just long enough to figure out who she was, then quickly looked away.

"Yes, I'll be there in a moment," Jack replied. "Do you have somewhere you can go?"

Jelly thought about Grace and Honoria, and nodded.

"Good. I don't think you should be alone."

He stood there for a moment, looking like he wanted to do something more but couldn't figure out what there was to do.

"Come on," Darrel said, taking him by the shoulder. "The Queen's mood will only get worse the longer you're gone."

She didn't start crying until much later, when both Grace and Honoria were asleep.

It was three days before her father came to pick her up.

* * *

Eleven years later, Jelly was woken up by the sound of knocking on the door. She sat up in bed, and was still rubbing the grit from her eyes when her father answered it.

"Oh, what now, Cricket?" Her father groaned.

Jelly got to her feet and walked into the main room. Cricket gave her a little nod before answering.

"Jack's esca- run away."

"Again?" They both asked.

"It's different this time," Cricket said grimly. "He's gone through the Looking Glass."

Silence greeted that statement, broken only by the sounds of birds chirping as the sun began to peak over the mountaintops.

"The Queen would like to see you in the Throne Room, Ten, as soon as possible," the Nine of Clubs told them, after a moment. "Carpenter, you're to report to work and begin reviving Mad March with all due haste."

"Have you found his head yet?" Dad asked.

"No."

Dad heaved a sigh, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Then there's no way I can bring him back 'in all due haste'. Bimolecular transdistropia is a delicate and complex process which takes time. If you don't have his head, it'll take me weeks to make a new one."

"Do you want to be the one to tell the Queen that?" Cricket asked.

"I'll be there in a minute," Jelly intervened, before things could decline further. "_Thank you_, Nine."

For a minute, she thought that he wouldn't recognize her dismissal, but after a moment, he gave a small bow with his hand pressed over his heart, and left.

"I don't know how," Dad started.

"You'll think of something," Jelly said. "You always do."

Dad shrugged. "Do you know what the Queen wants with you?"

"She wants to go over my proposal again, I expect," Jelly replied. She fiddled with the hem of her sleepshirt for a moment, realized what she was doing, and abruptly stopped. "I'm going to get dressed."

* * *

Cricket was waiting for her in the hall.

"Ooh, I warrant an escort," she joked as he fell into step beside her.

"Well, who knows what you'd get into if left on your own," he retorted, one corner of his mouth lifting slightly. "How have you been, lately?"

"Pretty well," Jelly said, neatly avoiding her father's declining health and her intent to betray everyone else in the Casino with a mental sidestep. "We're going to start up cross-training again soon."

"Yes, I heard. Which one is your deck in with?"

"The White Rabbit. And who are the bureaucrats facing?"

"Eggmen," Cricket sighed. "There's no way that will end well. Your father fights dirty."

"My father uses his brain," Jelly retorted, pressing the call button for the elevator.

"Your father's brain is twisted," Cricket shot back. "There is no excuse for Sleep-shooting flowers. None."

The elevator doors opened, revealing Dr. Dee and Dr. Dum. In unison, they grinned out at her and Cricket. She was just about to suggest the stairs when Cricket walked inside, giving her no choice but to follow.

"Of course," Cricket continued, in a slightly louder voice than usual as the doors slid shut. "You're not going to have a good time either. Agent White hates your spleen."

"And my spleen feels much the same way," Jelly replied, keeping her eyes straight ahead.

"Do they think if they ignore us, that we might ignore them, brother dear?" One of the Doctors asked.

"He's not going to go easy on you, or your deck, that's for sure," Cricket pointed out.

"I do believe that is the idea at work here, dearest brother." The other Doctor said.

"It's not supposed to be easy," Jelly told him. "It's supposed to point of problems in our tactics and routines."

"Delusions are such nasty things to break," the first Doctor replied.

"A challenging thing indeed, but necessary," the second Doctor agreed.

"We wouldn't want them to get in trouble, after all."

"And so much trouble comes out of clinging."

"To boards."

"And ladders"

"And daughters."

Jelly's hand curled into a fist, and with reflexes born of long association Cricket reached out and grabbed her by the wrist before she could do anything more. She struggled against it for a while, and then stopped as the elevator opened on the Throne Room's floor. She and Cricket walked out, his hand still on her wrist.

"I'd like to begin my apology by asking you to please not hit me," he said pleasantly, after the elevator had closed again.

"You pull something like that on me again and I'll more than just hit you," Jelly growled.

"I don't like letting them know I'm afraid," he explained.

"And I don't like being in an enclosed space with them," she shot back.

"Breathe," Cricket said, letting her hand go. "If you walk into the Throne Room looking that angry, the Queen will have your head just on principle."

"Yeah, I know," Jelly replied, trying to get herself back under control. Cricket gave her a mildly encouraging look, before his features shifted into being merely mild.

There were a set number of ways to deal with life in Court. The most common by far, used by almost every Diamond, Eggman, and Courtier, as well as roughly half of the other Suits, was to get steeped. If that didn't work for you, you _could_ try Jack's method and run away: but unless you were the prince, she wouldn't recommend it: runners died in far greater quantities than they got away. You could also simply go mad, though you wouldn't be allowed to enjoy it unless you were already past retirement age and had plenty of children to look after you. And then there was the method of repression: just keep moving forward and try not to think about who you're stepping on too much.

Both she and Cricket had gone that way, though she couldn't help but feel that he was a lot better at it than she was.

"Better?" Cricket asked.

Jelly nodded, and straightened her blouse. "Let's not keep them waiting any longer."

* * *

The Throne Room was, as usual, full to brimming with Courtiers. The Trumps were seated at the table, sipping Tea from long-stemmed goblets. On the fringes of the room stood several men in white suits, the red insignia on their jackets marking them as Hearts rather than White Rabbits. There were also several Heart women and a few men clustered around in groups of three and four, dressed in elaborate costumes and tittering expectantly.

Somewhere in Wonderland's lawbook, she swore there was a rule that any woman who dealt regularly with the Queen was required to be at most half as clever as Her Majesty. The fact that she flew in the face of such a rule tended to inspire a lot more terror than it did pride.

"You!" The Queen bellowed as the door shut closed behind her. "You have been conspiring with my son. I know you saw him last night. You helped him escape! Off with her head!"

Case in point. Jelly mentally rolled her eyes and held out an arm so Cricket could drag her back to her holding cell.

"A thought, my sweetest," the King said hurriedly, freezing the Nine of Clubs with a look. He whispered in the Queen's ear.

"Well of course we shall," the Queen hissed back, not nearly as quiet as her husband. "Yes, yes of course, Winston, don't be so obvious."

She turned her attention back to Court. "Jellybean, Ten of Spades. What do you think of my son's disappearance?"

Jelly wasn't sure how she was meant to answer that. "Your Majesty?"

"It's a bit beyond his usual antics, don't you think?" The Queen stood, and walked towards her until she was uncomfortably close.

"It is outside his pattern," Jelly admitted. Then stopped and thought for a moment- there was something wrong here, something missing. She wasn't being told the whole story. "Do you suspect foul play? Could he have been kidnapped?"

"No." The Queen began to circle her, and Jelly fought the urge to break her stance and keep the other woman in her sights. "Nothing quite so crude. But my son is… impulsive. Rash. Weak willed. Easy to influence."

"You're afraid he might be acting at the behest of a Resistance member?" Jelly asked.

"I am _not_ afraid!" The Queen roared.

Jelly started. "No, of course not, Your Majesty," she said quickly. "That was… a poor word choice, on my part. I apologize."

Thankfully, that seemed to mollify her, for she only sniffed and said. "You should."

She came around so that they were facing each other again. "I doubt he would realize if he were being manipulated by a Resistance spy," she continued. "I think he wouldn't bother to question anyone who helped him run away- which, of course leaves him open to further machinations. When you last appeared before me, you proposed a method to finding Resistance spies. I am giving you my royal permission to use that method."

Thank God. But before she could start with the requisite outpouring of gratitude, the Queen continued further. "Indeed, I am ordering you to begin applying your methods immediately. I expect you to have this issue resolved before the week is out."

_What?_

She snuck a quick look at the King, who looked back, stony-faced. "Thank you, Your Majesty," Jelly managed. "I'll get started right away."

"Of course you will," the Queen snarled. "Isn't that what I just said? Be gone!"

The Hearts opened the Throne Room doors and Jelly left.

* * *

Well, fuck. That had gone horribly right.

She'd go see the King before she left for the city, but she would, at best, walk out with an extension when she hadn't really wanted a deadline at all. But what was she expecting? You either act on the Queen's terms or you hid and prayed you weren't found. End of options. Even as the Ten of Spades she had no choices but what the Queen presented her with, knowingly or not.

She made it to her quarters, closed the door and then leaned against it, recent stress and two nights of poor sleep catching up with her. She closed her eyes for a moment, and thought. It was only her back-up plan that was pinched now. If she could win the Resistance over before the deadline it wouldn't matter. Hell, if she could get the Resistance to smuggle him out of the Casino before the deadline, it would be enough for her to work with. This wasn't the end of the world. It would be okay.

She opened her eyes and bent over to open her chest. She would need something that would pass as a civilian outfit: the closest thing she had was her party dress for state dinners. It was a pale blue thing, consisting of a tube top in the shape of two Spades and a long skirt with slits up to her thighs. Not the sort of outfit anyone would want to walk around the city in. That left her with her suits, which wouldn't do very much to disguise her as an ordinary citizen. She'd have to mix and match, at the very least.

She pulled out her barely-used larger briefcase from under the bed, fumbling a bit as the lack of space between the bed and the wall made getting it out difficult. She put in on the bed, and immediately put in her blue suede boots- they were absolutely not regulation, no matter how comfortable and hard wearing they were. Taking a second look at her choices with a more critical eye, she settled on a pair of grey trousers. She dug around the chest for a few minutes more, before deciding on a blue blouse that, if a bit frilly, was at least not marked with a Spade insignia. All of her old polo shirts from before she had attained an ace ranking were patterned with it, and most of her others had them on the buttons.

Besides, the blue brought out her eyes. It couldn't hurt for her to look pretty while she was selling herself.

Jackets posed something of a problem; even the ones she'd kept from her early days as a Spade displayed rank, and once she'd managed to become an ace they'd gained a giant spade on their backs as well. Eventually, she'd decided to go without- it might be chilly, but it was better than shouting her identity to all the world.

The next thing was weapons: switch blades that could be hidden up her sleeve, in her boot, and between her shoulder blades, and a gun for the small of her back. She'd bring her side arm and shoulder holster: no one would believe she left without them anyway.

She was just debating whether or not to try and bring a torch, a blanket, or other miscellany when there was a knock on the door. She hurriedly closed the briefcase and stuck it back under the bed before opening it.

It was Duchess.

"Ten," she said, less a statement and more an accusation. "You had an audience with the Queen this morning. I know you did. You're going after him, aren't you?"

It was… uncanny how much she sounded like the Queen these days.

"I'm on a special assignment, yes," Jelly said, not quite lying.

Duchess nodded to herself, and for a moment she looked young and lost. The moment passed quickly, however, and her default, arrogant look slipped back into place.

"I see."

She didn't quite push her way into Jelly's quarters, but it was a close thing. Jelly shrugged, and closed the door behind her, leaning back against it so as not to be invading the other woman's personal space more than necessary.

"While you are pursuing your special assignment, I would like you to keep in mind that as the prince's bride to be, I have a vested interest in his well being, and as the queen to be, I have the ability to make your life very, very difficult."

"Okay," Jelly agreed.

For a very long time, Duchess said nothing at all, her face rapidly cycling through different expressions until Jelly began to worry that she was having some sort of fit. She was just about to go running for a doctor when Duchess suddenly reached out and grabbed her by the hand.

"You have to keep him safe, Jelly" she implored. "I don't care what that entails. But someone needs to look out for him and I _can't_."

Jelly stared; Duchess broke down into tears.

"He won't even talk to me, and even if he did she's always _watching_ and she always _knows_ so I couldn't_ do_ anything at all without giving him away!"

Jelly sat down next to her and pulled her into a hug. "Duchess. Grace. It's okay. He'll be fine."

Duchess pulled back, looking shocked. "I- I'm sorry, Ten. I don't know what came over me."

Jelly stared at her, not entirely sure how to react. "Would you like me to tell him that you're worried about him, should I run into him?"

"No," Duchess replied apathetically. "No, just try to keep him in one piece, will you? It would be difficult to produce an heir if he was missing bits."

She rose to her feet and sashayed out of the room. Jelly stared after for a moment, the grabbed her briefcase and headed for the Internal Security office. Miscellany be damned; the sooner she was out of here the better.

* * *

The rest of what might very well be her last day as a Spade past quickly if not entirely without its oddities.

Sam had spoken up about something that wasn't routine for the first time Jelly could recall: he revealed that Jack had stolen a piece of jewelry before jumping through the Looking Glass, and as there was the risk, however slim, of his having doubled back, he wanted them to know that if any of their decks found him, they were to ask that he hand it over. And then force him to.

On that note, she went to pay a visit to the King, who was in an uncharacteristically ill temper. No, she would not have an extension, and as to her complaints that she did not have all the information, she had been told all she needed to know.

She was running short on time, but she raced back to her father's apartment and left him a note anyway. It might be a week before she saw him again; it might be more than a week. If this went really bad, she might never see him again, but she didn't think it would, and also didn't want him to worry about her in the meantime.

Then she caught a Scarab (barely) and went back into the city.

Work itself was a large blur of arrests, paperwork, and violent disregard for security cameras. Othello snarked, whined, and followed orders. Carlotta had somehow managed to get herself arrested and she had to arrange for her release and compensate her for her time. Shakina sent down forms for her validation and recommended that the station invest in dustpans for all the broken glass. The only truly notable happening was from Quigley, who came into her office with the news that his contact wanted to meet with her tonight at the Lobster Quadrille, and would come bearing orange tulips so she could tell who he was.

That left her in a bit of a conundrum; she was supposed to tutor Secunda again today, and she had wanted to keep that appointment, both to make up for her absence last time, and for the sessions she was about to miss. 'Tonight' was a fluid time, like most time was in Wonderland; it wouldn't be unreasonable for her to make her way to the Lobster Quadrille after her session with Secunda. She might even pick up more valuable information from the teen.

On the other hand, she didn't want to have her mysterious tulip man get fed up with waiting for her and close her window of opportunity. No, she'd have to play this safe. That meant going straight to the meeting place after work.

* * *

The Lobster Quadrille was a hole in a wall, but one with pretensions of class. It also seemed to have pretensions of being a dance club, though it was early enough that it had the potential of being salvaged in that regard.

She'd changed in the bathroom of a nearby, less pretentious hole, tucking her various weapons away on her person and switching out the suit on her back for the outfit in the briefcase. The ceiling tiles were removable; she slid the briefcase up between them and the floor above with more ease than she had getting it out from under her bed. After a moment's pause, she took off her EP and put it beside the case. If she needed her uniform or communicator for any reason, she put the odds at about even that they would still be here for her to pick up again.

Apparently she'd arrived just before the rush, because it wasn't too long before the club began to fill up. She ate dinner, and refused a surprising number of dance offers until she caught sight of a familiar straw porkpie and shock of dark brown hair. She was much more comfortable dancing with some random guy than making conversation with a _Tea Shop owner_ as she waited for her opportunity to commit high treason.

Unfortunately, there was no good way to inform Hatter of this. He seemed to be dogging her steps, probably curious as to what she was doing out of uniform and in an illegal establishment, and even after she'd spread the rumor that he was an ex she'd broken up with badly and was trying to avoid, she saw a lot more of him than she would have liked.

A great deal of time later, when she needed a drink and her choice of dance partners had thinned out considerably, she'd asked for a private booth and hoped that she could hide from him there.

"You know," Hatter said conversationally as he clambered over the divider. "I could almost get the impression that you're avoiding me."

Jelly exercised a considerable amount of will power, and did not bang his head on the table.

"You're making me feel that I'm being stood up," he continued, pulling out a slightly crumpled bouquet of orange tulips from inside his jacket and holding them out to her.

Jelly stared at them. Then she looked at Hatter, who was wearing a decidedly smug expression. Then it clicked; he'd been there, yesterday, right where she'd been looking for Resistance agents, and she'd asked him about _rehab_.

"Son of a bitch!"

"Not a tulip person?" Hatter asked innocently. "I have to admit, my first thought was orchids, but they're out of season."

She hadn't even checked his alibi. Hell, she'd _never_ checked his alibi. She ran a quick mental check of all the times she'd missed her mark and all the times he'd been 'in rehab'. There was a lot of overlap between the two groups.

"You-you joker!"

"And then I thought I could try the classic, and get you roses, but then I thought you must be sick of roses, otherwise you wouldn't be coming to me," Hatter continued, still looking far, far too pleased with himself.

Did he even drink Tea? He was a Tea Shop owner, so she'd kind of assumed that he did, but then again, she'd also assumed he wouldn't be doing things like _recruiting Resistance agents out of her deck_.

Ye gods. She'd been hustled.

"So I realize it's not what you were expecting," Hatter said, suddenly a bit more serious. Her eyes had drifted down to the bouquet, and she snapped them back up. "But I'd feel a lot better if you didn't just leave me holding these."

Jelly took the bouquet.

"Lovely," Hatter said. "By the way, I like the blouse."

"Thanks," Jelly replied. "Nice hat."

"It's my absolute favorite," Hatter told her.

Jelly placed the flowers in her lap and leaned forwards. "I take it Quigley told you what I want out of this arrangement?"

"One ticket to Oysterland, no White Rabbit involved?" Hatter said, leaning forwards as well until they were almost touching. "It's a high price. But I know a guy who knows a guy. And the stuff you're carrying around in your noggin should just about cover it."

"You know a guy who knows a guy?" Jelly repeated.

"Yes," Hatter said. "Would you like to meet him? He doesn't get out much, so it'd be a bit of a walk in the dark."

"Oh stop, you're making me nostalgic for my days on a beat," Jelly replied, standing up, flowers in hand.

"Follow me, then," Hatter said, standing as well. He offered her his arm, and she gave him her hand, and they made their way out into the night, to the complete bewilderment of roughly half the men in the club.


	3. Ace of Pentacles

_**ACE OF PENTACLES**_

_Upright__ - Financial change for the better, material comfort, physical well being, wealth, possessions and an appreciation of the good things in life. The essence and luxury of the Element of Earth._

_Reversed__ - Greed, dependence upon physical pleasures for happiness, avarice, miserliness, materialism. Lack of imagination and fear of death._

When Alice was fourteen, she became a Spade.

It wasn't a decision she'd made lightly. There were four different types of Suits, and although you had to be appointed to the Hearts, if she'd really wanted to dress up and fawn over the Queen all day, she could have certainly used her friendship with Jack to that end. She could have been a Club; Cricket and Grace were going to be, and there were much worse bosses she could have than Darrel. She could have been a Diamond as well, and taken snatches of conversation with Oysters when they woke up.

There were also the sub-Suits, which combined aspects of different Suits. The Lizards were maintenance people, but the fact that they worked in the city necessitated that they master the basics of self-defense, meaning that they were not quite Clubs, and even less Spades. The Eggmen worked with Oysters, which was a Diamond thing but the high degree of technical knowledge they needed meant that they required some Club training as well. Most people expected her to become an Eggman; she had the marks, and she had her father's footsteps before her.

But she couldn't help but remember the stories she had heard about her father's attempt to free her mother. He'd put up a good fight, but in the end, he couldn't stand against trained fighters. If it came down to it, she would need to.

That left the White Rabbit, a fighting force operating out of the Oyster's world, or the Spades. In the end, she'd chosen the Spades; as a White Rabbit she would have access to an exit out of Wonderland, of course, but she would also be spending most of her time out of contact with the Casino in general and her father in particular. She needed to be close by, and thus, she needed to be a Spade.

Fletcher raised an eyebrow as she looked over her application. "Are you sure this is what you want, Jelly?"

"Yes, ace," she replied.

"Are you sure you don't want to change this? Become a White Rabbit, or even a Lizard?" she asked.

"No, ace."

"Jellybean," her teacher said. "You aren't thinking this through. You've been watching the Spades closely- you know that women in the Suit don't generally last long, and they don't succeed."

"I'll be different." Jelly replied, and then hastily added "Ace."

"Jelly, women in the Spade suit have a tendency to be executed- the Queen often finds them to be insubordinate and liable to undermine her power," Fletcher told bluntly. "Think about your father. Do you know what that would do to him?"

"That's not going to happen," Jelly replied. "As I said, I'll be different."

Fletcher sighed, and stamped her approval. "It's your funeral. Don't expect me not to tell you I told you so at it."

She'd regretted that decision exactly once. Oh, she had plenty of regrets for what she'd done _as_ a Spade, but as for _being_ one, it was just the one time.

It had been about three months into her training, when they'd been woken up for what they thought was a routine morning inspection. There had been plenty of those, exercises in pointlessness and boredom that somehow managed to be exhausting. They stood out on the execution grounds on the Casino's cloistered roof, eyes forward and bodies obeying whatever commands the Seven in charge of their training would bark out, mentally squinting at clouds until they resembled bandersnatches, or trying to count the axes mounted on the wall.

This morning was different. No sooner had they arranged themselves into formation when Mad March came out from the holding cells, grinning in a way that benefited his mania, and dragging Fletcher by the hair.

"Good morning kiddies!" he said cheerfully, throwing her down by a stump. He unhooked an axe from his belt, and positioned it over her; they could hear her sobbing clearly from the other end of roof. "Today, you get to learn how to kill!"

He brought the axe down with a resounding thump. Blood spurted out of the cut, soaking into the stump and spilling over onto the ground. Fletcher's head stayed in place for a moment, before rolling to the ground.

The Spades-in-training stared, horrified. She heard one of the boys in the back retch, but Jelly couldn't make herself look away from March and the body to see who it was.

"Okay kids, triple up!" The assassin called, his overly-long front teeth gleaming in the early morning light. "One stump and one axe per group- we've got an entire dungeon full of people whose heads need to roll."

For a moment nobody moved. Then Mad March's grin became impossibly larger and he began to shift his axe from hand to hand. "And if anyone disagrees, they get to deal with me."

She supposed it couldn't have taken very long, though she couldn't have told you how long it took. She remembered it as being noisy, mostly. Mad March was constantly yelling out helpful hints like "Don't feel bad it you can't severe the head in one blow!" and "If they're struggling, just have one of your mates sit on them!" Some of the Spades in training broke down, crying and heaving, until March put them out of his misery. The prisoners were yelling too: pleas for mercy and insistences of innocence, of course, but there were other, more personal cries. Alban's mother kept telling him not to look. Honoria yelled at Jelly from across the grounds to let Grace know that she was sorry. One of her prisoners made a lucky break and lunged at March, spitting insults about the assassin's father until she was dragged back to her stump. It was messy too; for weeks later, she'd go running to the nearest sink, convinced there was still blood beneath her fingernails.

She'd done it, though. Three people executed, and then Mad March let her back into their barracks. Their Seven was waiting for them, and when everyone who hadn't been executed came back, he called for their attention.

"Congratulations on passing your final exam," he said. "Welcome to the Spades."

Nine years later, Jelly was being lead on what was indeed a very long walk in the dark. Hatter took them up ladders, down ladders, across bridges and through tunnels. She got the impression that he was doing his best to confuse her about where it was they were going. She could have told him not to bother, but if she ended up having to go back to the Suits, it would be useful as plausible deniability.

They finally came to a halt outside one of the crumbier areas of town. Hatter knocked on the door, and the eyeslot slid open.

"I'm here to return a library book," Hatter said. "It's a work by Edwin and Morcar."

Jelly looked at him in disbelief. He held up a finger, imploring her to wait.

"How does the little crocodile improve its shining tail?" asked a voice from inside.

Hatter rolled his eyes, and said quickly. "He pours the waters of the Nile of every shinning scale."

"Be quick." The door swung inwards, revealing a little old lady. Hatter put an arm around Jelly to usher her inside, and they stepped into what looked like a decrepit old airbus. Jelly looked around the place- they were completely enclosed by wallpapered walls.

"Good evening Owl," Hatter said.

"I don't see what's so good about it," the older woman said, hitting the decline button. The airbus dropped steeply; Jelly took hold of one of the poles and clung to it for dear life. They came to a stop after several stories of decline, but Hatter held out a hand before she could force her hand to unclench, and sure enough, the airbus dipped again before Owl put the brakes on.

"Nifty," Jelly commented as the door on the airbus sprang open, doing a pretty good job of not showing how terrifying that had just been. She began to walk out when she was stopped by a young girl with a shotgun.

"'Aren't they a bit young'?" She said mockingly.

Hatter rolled his eyes, a vein standing out where Owl was digging a revolver into his neck. "She's older than she looks."

"Over there against the balcony," said Owl. The girl moved out of the way to let them pass.

"Keep that right hand where I can see it!" she barked.

Jelly shot her a confused look.

"It's just flesh and blood," Hatter said, waggling the fingers on his right hand. Jelly transferred her confused look to him. He ignored her. "Look, why don't you just put those things away. You know me well enough."

"We have our orders," Owl said.

"Of course you do," Hatter said soothingly. "But tell me- did you like to box of comfits I brought you last week: the cured meats and the cheeses?"

Owl and the girl exchanged looks.

"They're all gone," the girl admitted.

"Well, Fawn," Hatter said, his voice hardening. "If you don't start treating me with a little more respect, you won't get another crumb."

The two women exchanged glances again then lowered their weapons.

"I'm sorry Hatter," Owl apologized. "Everyone's a little jumpy today."

"Everyone's always a little jumpy," Hatter replied wearily, waving them off. "Just go tell your boss I'm here, will you?"

Fawn scurried off, Owl following at a more sedentary pace.

"Really? These are the people that are going to circumvent the White Rabbit?" Jelly asked.

"Their boss is a little more savvy," Hatter assured.

"How much is a little?"

"A bit more than a bit."

Jelly was about to retort when she looked over the edge of the railing. The first thing she noticed was the books. They were everywhere, piled hundreds high against the walls, used to construct tables and beds and what even looked to be little huts. The second thing she noticed were the people; sick ones being hand-fed broth, old ones playing chess, young ones dodging in and out of different stacks.

"Are we where I think we are?" Jelly asked.

"The Great Library," Hatter confirmed. "I suppose the Queen would like nothing more than to see this all burnt to nothing."

"That's the standing order," Jelly admitted. "No one said anything about people living here, though, let alone this many."

"It's gotten worse lately," Hatter explained. "We do our best to feed them, but you lot aren't exactly going easy on us."

Jelly stared out at the refugees a little longer. "Well, we do have our quotas to deal with," she explained, rather badly.

"Ha," Hatter said. "Come on, let's get your ticket out of here."

The office the women lead them into was dark; without the chance to let sunlight it, the only source of illumination was the lamp set into the wall, which seemed almost like it was throwing more shadows than light. Then again, she didn't need very much light to see that their boss was Dodo- very obviously the same Dodo Carlotta had told her about. Jelly continued to stare at him in dismayed disbelief as Hatter made the preliminary introductions.

"And what makes you think I would want to help your Suit, when you know her being here puts us all at risk?" Dodo asked.

"Oh please," Hatter replied. "I've handled worse than this for years."

Dodo was pompous; Hatter was flippant. Jelly had the idea that this was a pattern that could hold for hours, and was not going to end well for her at all- especially given her limited timeframe.

Dodo grinned, and confirmed her suspicions with her next words. "Do you know what rankles most about bloodsucking carpetbaggers like you?"

"Okay, hold that thought for later," Jelly said. "Let's talk about why I'm here. Can you get around the White Rabbit, yes or no?"

"No comment," Dodo replied snidely.

Oh, frag this. If she was going to sell out her deck, it wasn't going to be to someone who treated himself to a platter of baked clams while his charges starved. And she certainly wasn't going to entrust her father's safety to such a man.

"Well, that's helpful," Jelly said, and turned to Hatter. "Is there anyone else we could try?"

"Sorry," Hatter said. "This is as high up as I go."

"You don't have lower contacts in another branch?"

"None that aren't too low down to be of use," Hatter replied, before repeating, more genuinely. "Sorry."

"Fair enough," she said, and turned back to Dodo, who looked about three ticks away from shooting them. "What about you?"

"What about me?" Dodo growled.

"Do you have contacts in another branch?" Jelly said, slowly, as though speaking to a child. "I'm not dealing with you."

Her assumption would be that he did have contacts- the Resistance wasn't about to lose hold of the Great Library. If the literature she confiscated was to be believed, the fact that it was still standing and full of forbidden knowledge was proof that when the Resistance won there would be something untouched left for them to build on.

Dodo's face purpled, and she heard Hatter shift behind her. "What are you doing?" he whispered.

"Listen: I am the Ten of Spades," Jelly said, only sort of ignoring Hatter for the moment. "The information I hold is more than enough for you to buy yourselves a very wide window of opportunity for all sorts of mischief. You could steal the Suit's stores of food, lay ambushes for their patrols, and hijack their Scarabs. You might even be able to take back the city, if you have the right resources. That should be more than enough incentive for you to put me in contact with someone competent."

"I am astounded," Dodo ground out. "By your sheer gall."

"And if it's not I'll wander downstairs and start telling people about how you've managed to maintain that figure in the middle of this pinch we're having," Jelly added.

"Do you really think that we haven't heard that lie a thousand times over?" Dodo asked.

"I think the previous times you've heard it, there were details missing about what you ordered, what you paid with, who you talked to, and where you went," Jelly told him.

"I'd be interested in knowing that," Hatter said, as Dodo's eyes went instinctively to where Fawn and Owl were standing, nervously clutching their guns. "Hell, if you're willing to share, some of my other contacts might actually be useful, what with Resistance in-fighting being what it is."

"Or I could hold you here and make you tell everything," Dodo threatened.

"So we _can_ cut him out completely," Jelly said, making a show of ignoring Dodo while slipping her hand under her blouse to curl around the gun she had holstered under her arm.

"Well it would cause a lot of bother," Hatter explained. "He does have a great deal of resources at his disposal and could probably cause a right fuss if he wanted. But, as long as we don't have other options, it's certainly doable."

"You back-stabbing, slimy little-" Dodo began, but stopped abruptly as Jelly reached the limit of her patience for bluster, pulled out her gun, and aimed it at him.

"If you would be so kind as to give me a straight answer?" Jelly said pointedly.

Dodo replied by whipping out a gun of his own.

"Okay," Hatter said, putting his hand down on the desk between them. "This is going to get us exactly nowhere. Why don't you both put your guns down? You're scaring the girls."

"Oh shut up, you craven-"

"No, you shut up," Hatter said. "You know I don't let you hassle my clients like this, Dodo."

"I'll give you twice your usual fee to forget about that," Dodo replied.

Well, shit. She hadn't exactly come prepared to bargain with anything other than information. If Hatter was here for the wealth, then she was out numbered at least four to one, and probably fragged. Thank God and common sense she'd come armed.

"Oh good, you're open to bargaining," Hatter replied. "So, here's a deal then- Jelly keeps those little details to herself, and you pass along news to Caterpillar or Tortoise or whoever you like and have them send an agent round to my shop."

"I'm not paying you for that," Dodo ground out.

For a moment Jelly was sure that would sway him. But after a moment of frowning, during which Jelly kept sneaking looks at Hatter out of the corner of her eye while keeping her gun on Dodo, he nodded with visible reluctance.

"Okay," Hatter said, and holding out both hands, forced their guns down and away from each other. They stared at one another for a moment, then put their weapons back in their holsters. Jelly straightened her blouse back out, and caught Hatter giving her an odd look.

"What?" she demanded.

"Do you have anything else under there?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered succinctly.

"Right," he said, pressing his lips together and turning back to Dodo. "So, we'll be leaving now. Pleasure doing business, as always."

"Get out," Dodo said.

Hatter rolled his eyes to the ceiling, and jerked his head towards the door, in case she hadn't got the hint that it was time to go. They walked back to the airbus, Fawn and Owl trailing behind.

"Is he really going down to a pub?" Owl asked as the airbus spluttered its way upwards.

"Yes," Jelly replied. Hatter sent her a warning look, and then smiled at Owl.

"Try not to think about it too much," he said. "Oh, and, by the way." He shifted, and pulled two small wheels of cheese from the pocket inside the back of his jacket. "Make sure Fawn gets one of these, will you?"

The airbus came to a halt, and they stepped out into a fog.

"Right then," Hatter said, turning left. "Let's go."

"Wouldn't this way be quicker?" Jelly asked, jerking her head towards the right.

Hatter looked at her for a minute. "You know exactly where we are, don't you?"

"I have an ineffable sense of direction," Jelly said.

"Well, humor me a bit and let me try my hand at effing it, will you?" Hatter replied, starting off. Jelly sighed, but followed close behind.

They made their way back to the shop after a very twisty and confusing walk that did absolutely nothing but ensure that by the end of it Jelly was damp, shivering, and running a serious risk of losing her grip on the ladders with her numb fingers and falling to her death. She didn't though, and they reached Hatter's Tea Shop without incident.

"In you go then," Hatter said, holding the door to his office open for her. Jelly pushed herself gratefully off the ladder and entered his office. She'd been here a few times before, asking questions about this suspect or the other: it was a cozy place, done up in a style that wasn't quite neo-Atlantian and boasted several actual living plants rather than the fake ones that decked the state's buildings.

"Can I borrow your bathroom?" Jelly asked.

"Only if you promise to give it back," Hatter replied.

Jelly rolled her eyes as she closed the door behind her.

That definitely could have gone better, she mused. And she had certainly not done anything to help with her deadline issue. It might take more time than she had to set up contact with another branch of the Resistance, especially if it was Tortoise's branch in the hills. She couldn't say that she knew very much about the Resistance's politics (other than that they were against the Queen, naturally) but she doubted very much that the city cells had a good enough handle on the country cells to get a message through in a timely manner. Caterpillar was, from what she could tell, somewhere in the city, and there were other players, subordinate to him but still big enough in their own right to cause a major nuisance. She could very easily end up speaking with Lory or Eaglet, and bypass the Queen's Most Wanted Number One and Two altogether.

"You alright in there?" Hatter called through the door.

"Fine," Jelly replied. "I'll be out in a minute."

Hatter was waiting for her, it seemed. There was a cup full of something brown and steaming on the desk, a chair pulled out in invitation. Hatter himself was seated on his throne-like swivel chair on the other side, already sipping from his cup.

"Well, sit down," he said, indicating the chair. Jelly sat, but with Carlotta's trick still in the forefront of her mind, she didn't touch the tea.

"I probably should have asked you this before," she said. "But what exactly are you looking to get out of this?"

"Before your bit with the blackmail? A book, and maybe a jump in credibility, though with Dodo that would likely require the Queen's head on a platter," Hatter told her, pausing to take another sip of tea. "Now? More useful contacts. I've gone just about as far as I can go with Dodo, I think. I'd like to see what other opportunities there are."

"Fair enough," Jelly said, nodding.

"Though," Hatter continued. "I could certainly be persuaded to be a little more proactive in aiding in your interests, if you were to drop a hint or two as to where Dodo's been getting his padding?"

He waited expectantly. Jelly stifled a yawn and weighed her options- not that she needed that long. She needed Hatter's help, Dodo was probably angry at her no matter what she did, and Carlotta would need another source of income with Jelly gone anyway.

Actually, now that she thought about it "My advice would be for you to give Carlotta a raise."

Hatter blinked, and then grinned. "Oh, so you'd be Pension Plan then?"

"Oh good, you _are_ Mr. Honesty," Jelly replied.

Hatter laughed. "I can't say I've ever been called that before."

"Really? That's a shock," Jelly replied, and then yawned behind her hand when he started laughing again.

"You're not touching your tea," he pointed out when his laughter had died down.

"No," Jelly said, biting back another yawn.

Hatter gave her a once over, and then said. "I didn't spike it or anything, you know."

"No, I'm just not thirsty," Jelly lied.

Hatter rolled his eyes, then grabbed her cup and took a sip. "There, see?"

"Yay, backwash," Jelly replied, not quite managing to hide her yawn that time.

"Oh, drink up," Hatter said. "There are people starving just down the street."

"Did you steal that line from your mother?" Jelly asked.

"As a matter of fact she gave it to me."

"How kind of her."

Hatter looked between her and her cup of tea, still sitting before her and steaming slightly, and managed to miss her next yawn. "You're in an uffish mood."

Jelly rolled her eyes and took the damn teacup. It was something she could hide her yawning behind, at any rate.

With conversation deflected off the relatively painless subject of the tea, Jelly felt the need to cast about for something safe to talk about. Hatter was clever enough to have run circles around her and the rest of the police deck for years, which meant that he was plenty keen enough to milk her for information as long as she was stuck with him. She didn't want to give anything more of her situation away until she had to. She would, however, like to know a little bit more about Hatter's.

_So_, she thought to herself as she took a cautious sip, _what do I know about Hatter_?

Not very much, she had to admit. Her first impression of Hatter had been of someone who was intelligent if not especially wily, a bit vain and cocky, but also rather affable, to the point of being downright beamish. Now she had to reassess: Hatter was a savvy juggler, who might be justified in his vanity and cockiness, and had a talent for putting people at ease. He also made a very good cup of tea. Jelly took a slightly larger gulp.

"There, see?" Hatter said. "Like I was going to spoil Earl Grey with something extra. It's as good as a dose of Comfort, and only half as addictive, but at least four times as expensive."

"And illegal."

"Oh fie, now you're going to have to arrest me."

Jelly hummed. "Maybe later."

Hatter gave her a rather lecherous smile. Jelly shook her head, and decided to appeal to his vanity.

"You must have been laughing at us," Jelly said, stifling another yawn. "All this time you've been with the Resistance, and none of us ever thought to question you."

"It works better that way," Hatter said. "And I prefer it to the alternative. If I had both sides questioning me, I'd be bankrupt from bribes."

Jelly made to reply, but ended up yawning hugely instead.

"Sorry," she said. "It's been kind of a long day."

"They don't teach you how to deal with those in Spade school?" he asked.

"Of course. It's just been a long day on top of long days," Jelly yawned into her teacup, and then took another drink. Leaf tea normally had caffeine in it, and that would keep her awake, right?

Hatter gave her a once over. "Tell you what," he said. "Why don't I show you where I hide my Resistance-seeking clients?"

Surprisingly, there wasn't anything sexual about either his offer or his glance, but Jelly decided to act as though there was anyway. It was just easier to keep things in their established pattern.

"And after that are you going to show me your etchings?" she asked.

"Would you like to see my etchings?" Hatter countered, swinging back into flirt mode.

"Maybe after I arrest you," Jelly replied.

"That'll make for an interesting time." Hatter stood, placing his empty teacup down as he did so. He turned a set of metal blinds that hung down from the partially-absorbed columns that lined the wall behind his desk, and pulled one up, revealing several shelves of contraband- leaf tea and books. He stuck his hand all the way to the back, and with a dull grinding sound, the shelves swung to the sides.

"Come on," Hatter called, sticking one leg inside.

Jelly rose and followed him, leaving her mostly-full cup behind.

Hatter had just managed to light a small gas lamp as she finally reached the bottom of the ladder. It spluttered a bit, throwing his face into sharp relief, before stabilizing. Hatter turned it all the way up, and the small area became illuminated. There were books everywhere; stacked beneath the cot, forming chairs, ottomans, the table and even a sofa. Against one wall was shelving, and that was packed with food; jams and preserves, canned and dried goods of every flavor, more than enough to keep him comfortably fed for months.

"It's normally not so crammed full," Hatter told her. "But with you being right on my tail I had to stash as much of that load as possible, and with things with Dodo being what they are, I've been going for getting as much from him as possible before he cuts me off."

"It's certainly cozy," she observed, casting another eye around the room. A few titles stood out amongst the furniture: _The Fellowship of the Ring_, _Pride and Prejudice_, _Jane Eyre_, and _I, Robot_.

"These are from Earth," Jelly said.

"Yeah," Hatter replied, sounding surprised. "Sometimes members of the White Rabbit will bring them to this side to sell. The Resistance is willing to pay a lot for anything in a text medium these days, book binders and printing presses being as scarce as they are."

Jelly nodded and fingered the letters of Issac Asimov's name.

"I'm surprised you know enough about them to identify them on sight," Hatter continued. "Booksellers tend to stress how careful you need to be with Oyster books, so the supply line doesn't dry up."

The word 'Oyster' jerked her out of herself, and Jelly let her hand drop back down to her side. "I've read a few Oyster books," she told him. "I'm pretty sure my Dad has a copy of all of Issac Asimov's works back home."

Hatter visibly filed that information away; Jelly declined to clarify that by home she meant 'a little yellow house on the other side of the Looking Glass'.

"Tell you what," Hatter said. "It'll be a while before we hear back from anyone. Why don't you make yourself comfy down here, and I'll let you know when word arrives."

Jelly weighed her options once more, but before she could finish, there was a bang and the sound of Hatter's floor manager, Dormie, yelling about the Tea shipment arriving filtered down into the safe room.

"Hold on just a tick," Hatter said, making his way past her and up the ladder. There was another dull grinding sound as the shelves moved back into place, and the Hatter drew the blinds back down, sealing her inside.

There was no harm in just resting for a bit, Jelly decided, and passed over the cot in favor of the sofa. Surprisingly, the books didn't shift under her weight. She'd half expected them to fall apart at her touch, but then again, she supposed that the people in the Library must manage the whole furniture made of books thing daily on a daily basis.

She thought about the children she'd seen darting in and out amongst the stacks, and wondered if Hatter had once been one of them. She could believe that of him; she could believe anything of him today.

And with that not-quite-comforting though, she nodded off.

Sleep wasn't very easy for someone whose conscience spent as much time yelling at her as Jelly's did. Nightmares weren't unusual, and even her more benign dreams were a bit… odd.

For example, in her dream she sat at her kitchen table in her little yellow house. To her left was Dormie, asleep as always, to her right was Hatter, his hat blown to comically large proportions, and across from her was Mad March, huge, fuzzy rabbit ears replacing his regular ones.

"You're dead," she told the assassin.

"No, you're dead," March said, sipping something dark red from a steaming mug that proclaimed him to be The World's Greatest Dad. It left a stain on his bunny teeth when he grinned at her.

"New cups! Move down!" Hatter cried, leaping to his feet. But the table was too small for there to be anywhere else to go, so that all he did was wake Dormie.

"Feed your head," he urged her sleepily as Hatter sat back down, looking disappointed. "Feed your head." Then he fell asleep again, apparently content to use a bowl full of Jell-O as a pillow.

"Anyway," March said, munching opened mouthed on a handful of jellybeans. "You're dead. You just know it yet."

"No one wants new cups?" Hatter asked. "These are dirty."

"So why don't you wash them?" March asked

"We have guests," Hatter pointed out. "It would be rude."

"These cups have been dirty since Dad brought them," March retorted. Behind him, Dinah jumped onto the countertop, eyes narrowed and ears pressed back against her head. "And you haven't washed them yet."

Hatter frowned, an inspected the inside of his teacup.

"What I tell you three times is true," March said, turning back to her. But before he could go any further, Dinah gave a great hiss and pounced, landing on his head.

"Feed your head," Dormie mumbled. March flailed, and Dinah went flying past her into the living room. Jelly turned around just in time to watch as she landed on her feet. The cat faced the table, tail twitching.

"Dinah?" she asked.

Dinah looked up at her, and grinned, pointy teeth glinting in the fluorescent light.

Then there was a tug on her leg, and she found herself upright and pinning Hatter to the wall before she had a chance to register that she was awake again.

"Oi!" Hatter protested, eyes wide.

"Sorry," Jelly said, letting him go and taking a step back.

"No problem," Hatter said, pulling his clothes straight. "These things happen."

It was on the tip of her tongue to make a crack about him being irresistible, but what came out was the more serious "Next time you have to wake me up, try calling my name instead."

"I'll keep that in mind," Hatter promised, and picked up a purple velvet jacket from the floor. Jelly recognized it from his rack of clothing above them. "So, Fawn just came here; Caterpillar will have a contact for us to meet with down at Father William's Tavern. You might want to put this on." He held out the jacket. "It's near midday, and still tulgey out."

Jelly took it, and put it on as Hatter climbed back up the ladder. It was cinched around the waist, and a bit more roomy in the chest area than she really needed it to be.

"Do I want to know why you have women's clothing laying about?" she called up the ladder.

Hatter grinned down at her. "For clothing women, of course. Hurry up!"

They had nothing to say to each other on their way to meet with Caterpillar's man; very little had changed since they'd made their way from the Great Library. Hatter was either still curled around the idea of effing her sense of direction, or lost, but in either case Jelly decided against bringing up the topic again- though, the way he'd swung their route just shy of a particularly notorious city cube had made her want to reconsider that decision. For herself, Jelly was preparing to impress a need for action on their contact; there were only so many days in a week, and she'd already used up one of them. The fog had indeed yet to burn off, and though the jacket did help, her fingers had still gone numb and she was beginning to feel the chill seep under that jacket and through her blouse when they arrived.

The heat of the tavern, generated less from the stove and more from the press of people inside hit her like a sweat-stained wall. The place was packed, Hatter threaded his arm through hers, the better to not be separated, and they made their way to the side of the entrance, letting the crowd bob their way up and down the stairs.

"Do you know what this guy looks like?" she asked him, leaning over the railing a bit, to get a better view of the crowd below. It was a lunchtime rush, probably from the mills just three stories below them, to judge by the number of dust-covered people.

"Wearing a blue jacket and a white hat," he informed her, mimicking her posture.

"I look something like this actually."

They looked down and met the grin of a dark, curly-haired man in a navy blue jacket and white trilby. He stood, pushing the chair he'd been sitting on back into a nearby table and opened a door.

"Coming?" he asked.

"Be right there," Hatter replied. The man disappeared, and he turned to her with a frown. "Did you think we were talking that loud?"

She shook her head no, and began to make her way to the stairs. Hatter followed before she could get far enough away to break contact. They pushed their way through the throngs of people, trying not to tread on too many toes. Their contact had left the door open; it lead to a staircase that spiraled downwards. Hatter pulled the door closed behind them, and they made their way down to a small, ill-lit room with a chair in its center. Their contact sat at it, facing them.

"We can speak freely here," he told them, "Without fear of being overheard."

"Good," Hatter said, before she could. "I'm Hatter, this is Jellybean, and you are?"

"Call me Gryphon," their contact said. "Have a seat."

He gestured to the two chairs opposite him, and they sat.

"So," Gryphon said, eyeing her intently. "What causes a Ten of Spades to defect?"

"I need a way out," Jelly explained.

"So I've heard," Gryphon said. "But I'm not sure I believe it."

"Oh?" Jelly asked.

"No," Gryphon replied. "I was in charge of the Resistance cell you contacted while defusing potential food riots. The way you handled yourself then didn't speak of someone who couldn't anticipate any problems the Queen might have with another woman in a position of authority."

Shit. She couldn't have stayed with the fat, incompetent one?

"They also didn't speak of someone who would betray the people under her command for just about anything," Gryphon continued.

"The situation's changed," Jelly said.

"Yes, but how?" Gryphon pressed.

"I'll tell you when you tell me whether or not you can get through the Looking Glass without the White Rabbit noticing," Jelly told him.

They stared at each other for a moment. Beside her, Hatter shifted, obviously looking for a way to move things along.

"We've had some success, moving agents to the other side," Gryphon admitted.

"Good," Jelly replied. "I need you to move my father there."

Gryphon stared. Hatter turned around in his seat so that he was facing her and did much the same.

"I know you have agents in the Casino," Jelly stated. "Mad March's death is more than proof of that. Use them, and get him out of there."

"You're father's Carpenter," Hatter reminded her. Gryphon's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.

"And it's killing him," Jelly said. She turned back to Gryphon. "Look, he was never happy about doing the Queen's dirty work, but since they relaxed the regulations for the White Rabbit, things have gotten worse."

"If your father is so reluctant to do her work, then why doesn't he just stop?" Gryphon asked. "Why doesn't he contact us himself, instead of sending you to do it?"

"He doesn't know I'm here," Jelly said.

Gryphon threw his arms up over his head. "Well, that's very helpful!"

"Look," Jelly said. "All you need to do is tell him that I'll meet up with him and he'll go wherever you point."

"I don't believe you," Gryphon said. "If it was that easy-"

"Does this seem easy to you?" Jelly demanded, "Because from where I'm sitting it's not. It's really, really not."

"Look, if you've got the contacts-" Hatter interrupted.

"To expose to the mind behind the Resistance's greatest obstacle while they were all in the Casino, you mean?" Gryphon asked.

"Balanced against the information she can get you? I keep hearing that the Resistance is valuing its undercover operatives more, but somehow I doubt you care that much," Hatter snapped back.

"What you're asking would be the most dangerous operation we've attempted yet," Gryphon said.

Shit and shit. She could just smell an 'I need to check with my superiors' coming.

"More dangerous than taking out Mad March?" Jelly pressed. Gryphon looked like he was going to interject, but she ignored it. "I'll be giving you the biggest break you've ever gotten."

"And your asking price is too high," Gryphon pushed himself away from the table.

"Wait," Jelly said, desperate. Gryphon ignored her, and made for the stairs. Jelly stood up, and followed him. "What exactly is the problem here?"

"The problem is that I cannot fathom how your father would cooperate with us," Gryphon told her.

"You don't understand, they didn't give him a choice!" she told him. Gryphon paused, one foot on the stair. "If I weren't here, he would have found some way to end it all by now!"

There was a sudden, great sigh from the corner of the room. Behind her, Hatter jumped a little, then made his way cautiously in that direction.

"Oh don't mind me," a voice said. "I just think it's sad, that's all."

Gryphon unhooked a lamp from the wall and made his way over to the corner. "If you've got something to say, Mock, say it," he advised, his light illuminating a red-eyed, elderly man, hooked into various wires and machines.

"Well, it's not like having Carpenter in the Casino is a good thing," Mock said, sounding despondent. "And if he would be willing to go, that would make it easier to whisk him away. It seems to me that she's asking for something that could only help us."

He sighed again, this time accompanied by the wheeze of a bellows contracting, completely out of synch with the rise and fall of his chest.

"How is that-?" Hatter began.

Gryphon waved him off. "He doesn't actually need any of this."

"Oh, you're so rude," Mock complained sadly. Gryphon rolled his eyes and moved back to the table.

"You're sure he'd come with," Gryphon asked her. "It's not just in your fancy that if we mentioned your name he'd do what we wanted?"

"Yes, I'm sure," she replied.

"Well, then, maybe we can meet you halfway," Gryphon said. "We have received word just recently that one of our agents has been captured by the White Rabbit, and we expect them to transport him to their headquarters before the day is out. In exchange for Carpenter's safe transport, I'd like you to intercept them before they can take him to the Casino. Can you do that?"

"If it gets my father out of there?" Hope vibrated in her chest; she was almost there. "Absolutely."


	4. Knight of Cups

_**KNIGHT OF CUPS**_

_Upright__ - Change and new excitements, particularly of a romantic nature. invitations, opportunities, and offers. A person who is a bringer of ideas, opportunities and offers. He is often constantly bored and in constant need of stimulation, but also artistic and refined. A person who is amiable, intelligent full of high principals, but a dreamer who can be easily led or discouraged._

_Reversed__ - Unreliability and recklessness. Fraud, embezzlement, false promises and trickery. A person who is congenital liar, someone who has trouble discerning the end of the truth and the beginning of falsehood._

When Alice was fifteen years old, she was in danger of being executed for the first time.

She'd been sentenced to death before, and the first couple of times it had been scary, yes. But she'd been young, and by and large in the wrong place at the wrong time. No one had seriously expected her not to be pardoned. Today, however, was a bit different.

"You and your fucking radishes," Othello groused from his corner of their cell.

"I said I was sorry," Jelly repeated.

"Well, the acoustics in this _cell_ suck!" he shot back.

"Look, we got our guy anyway," Jelly began.

"Yeah, our _little old_ guy. The Queen can rest safely tonight knowing that _Duck_ is off the street along with a _majestic fuckton of radishes_!"

Jelly rolled her eyes, but didn't comment. Othello was something of a worrywart; he also had three more years worth of experience than her, which meant that being his partner was a good way to be promoted quickly. He had lost his first partner, which meant that she was usually willing to cut him a little slack.

As previously established, today was not usual; today had involved radishes, one of her plans backfiring in a nearly unsalvageable way, and so is naturally followed that he was really starting to piss her off. Thankfully, Cricket chose that moment to enter, followed closely by Grace and a large tray of food.

"Hello Fours," he greeted. "We come bearing food."

"And news?" Jelly asked hopefully.

"Not the sort of news you're hoping for," Grace said. "But there is-"

The door to the holding cells opened again, and in walked Jack, wearing a dapper suit and a beleaguered expression. "Well, I'm done. That was the worst idea I've ever had."

"What was?" Jelly asked.

"The party," Jack replied, then did a double take, as though just realizing that she was behind bars. "Which you likely haven't heard about."

"You threw a party?" Jelly asked.

"He's throwing a party," Cricket confirmed. "There's alcohol and loud music and everything, four stories up and three corridors that way." He jerked his head back in the direction of door.

"I'm celebrating my inability to get past Mother's guards for these past six months," Jack elaborated. "Thought being, that if I can't go to the city, then a part of the city can come to me. And it was a terrible idea."

"My career certainly misses being able to hand you over," Othello commiserated. "And the lack of radishes."

Jack made a rude noise, pulled a chair out of an empty cell, and sat down in it, burying his face in his hands.

"Jack, darling," Grace said. Jack looked up. "I can't help but get the impression that you're going about partying the wrong way."

"Oh?" Jack asked.

"Yes," she said firmly. "I'll be right back."

She left; Othello chose that moment to ask "So… you and Grace?"

"Yes, him and Grace," Cricket interrupted vehemently. "If there's much more 'him and Grace' I'm going to puke in my robes!"

"Thank you Cricket," Jack replied. "It's so nice to know that I can rely upon you."

"You can rely on me!" Cricket protested. "You just also make me want to vomit."

Grace entered the room at that point, carrying five goblets, three wine bottles and several small kebabs in a basket.

"First," she proclaimed. "We need to drink this. All of it."

Jelly had moved past the buzzed stage several hours later when she realized the flaw in this plan.

"Uh, Jack?" she asked.

Jack lifted his head from where he'd been using Grace's hat as a pillow. "Hm?" he asked, bleary eyed.

"What is your mother going to do when she sees the pictures of this?" she asked.

"She's not going to see pictures of this," Jack scoffed. "She doesn't check security cameras."

"No one's going to send her them if they show her son drunkenly curled up with a Club?" Jelly pressed meaningfully.

"And associating with prisoners she might have executed anyway?" Othello added, getting shakily to his feet.

Cricket frowned. "I think we're supposed to show her those sorts of pictures."

"She's not going to see any pictures," Jack insisted, standing up, and dragging his chair over to the where the camera was mounted on the wall. He swung the chair up at it; he missed, but the force of the chair hitting the wall was great enough to shake the camera from its mountings and have it crash to the floor in pieces. "So there."

Cricket laughed, loud, obnoxious, and drunken.

"My hero," Grace purred, as Jack dragged his chair back next to her.

"Anything for you, darling," he murmured.

Cricket made a retching noise as the door swung open into his chair, and Jelly's father stepped inside. He took in the room: the empty bottles, the broken camera, and the way Grace and Jack had sprung apart guiltily when he entered, before settling his gaze on her.

"What?" Jelly protested. "This isn't my fault! I'm in a cell! On death row!"

Dad pinched the bridge of his nose. "Not anymore you're not. The King's given you and your partner a pardon."

He turned to Cricket and held his hand out for the keys, which the Club gave to him after a small amount of fumbling.

"Come on, Jelllybean," he said, as he unlocked the door. "Let's go back to our quarters."

"FREEDOM!" yelled Othello as the door opened, and he ran for the exit. He stopped just short of it, though, and turned to Cricket before vomiting down the front of his robes.

Eight years later, Jelly watched from a niche in one of the dilapidated old buildings that surrounded the White Rabbit's headquarters. If they'd been in any other area of the City, they would be surrounded by urchins, glaikits, stiffs, and other irregulars; as it was, this part of the City was dead quiet, disturbed only by the occasional Spade making their way into and out of the Police headquarters five stories down.

There were areas in the City she would never authorize a presence in except in force; but no one bothered the Suits in their own territory.

Except for, apparently, her. And Hatter.

"You can leave, you know," she said again, keeping her eyes trained on the auxiliary Looking Glass room. She'd been a little skeptical when she'd heard that the agent the White Rabbit had captured had been operating on the other side- how exactly were they going to keep her father safe if they couldn't stop their own Other Side agents from being caught?- but Gryphon had explained it well enough, if with scanter details than she would have liked. The agent in question was someone the Queen wanted very much, and as he'd planned to return eventually, which meant that he'd stayed close to the Looking Glass rather than moving into one of the Resistance's safe houses several hundred miles inland.

Which meant that it was up to Jelly to anticipate the White Rabbit's actions on this side, something that she had actually gotten rather good at over the years. If they were anticipating trouble from the Resistance- and since the Resistance was apparently planning on giving them trouble that was a pretty sure bet- they would likely be using that instead of the actual Looking Glass chambers. "You've put me in contact with the Resistance, and gotten a contact yourself. I'm not going to blame you if you just go back to your shop."

"Ah, but if I help rescue this agent of Gryphon's, he'll be grateful," Hatter replied. "And then I could have another contact."

"You know, the plan is to bring him back to your shop," Jelly reminded him.

"Yes, but he's more likely to be grateful if I help to rescue him."

"You do realize this is going to involve fighting, right?" Jelly was willing to accept that Hatter was good at avoiding her men, good at talking his way out of things, good at working in the shadows. She was a little more leery of how he would fare in a physical confrontation.

Hatter reached into his jacket and pulled out a pocket pistol. "You're not the only one who goes around armed, you know," he said, sounding insulted.

"It might be hand to hand combat," Jelly clarified.

"I have a mean right hook."

"Really?"

Hatter's protest, whatever it was going to be, was cut short as the air began to vibrate faintly with a Scarab's approach.

"It's early," Jelly said. "They must want to take him directly there. Come on."

She swung a board from the nearby ledge to the roof of the White Rabbit's Headquarters, and, teeth and fists tightly clenched, made her way across. Hatter followed behind her, and they dashed behind the White Rabbit's insignia as two men came out of the auxiliary building, dragging a third between them.

"That must be him," Hatter muttered. Jelly nodded. The unconscious man was wearing jeans and a watch glinted on his wrist; there was no excuse for that unless he'd been living in hiding on the Other Side.

"Wait just a bit," Jelly murmured, holding out an arm to stop him from running for the ladder.

The men were nearly on the premises when Agent White finally appeared, jumping nimbly through the landscape despite his cane.

"Go," Jelly said, moving for the right-hand ladder; Hatter took the left. She climbed down as quickly and quietly as she could and ran around the ledgeway that surrounded the building.

"Agent White!" she shouted.

White stopped short, as did his Suits.

"I do not have time, Ten," he said imperiously. "To quibble with you today. As you can see-"

His monologue was cut short by a sharp whistle, and suddenly one of the men holding the Resistance agent went sprawling to the ground. Jelly lunged for White while he was distracted, and they went tumbling over the Suit's unconscious body. She caught a flash of Hatter squaring off against the other Suit, who was using the unconscious agent as human shield. Then they rolled to a stop, him on top of her; she twisted her hips slightly as he tried to pin her to the ground, and managed to bring her knee up sharply between his legs. He gasped, instinctively curling in on himself, so she rolled herself to the top and the both of them farther away from the ledge and brought her hand back. Her punch landed squarely in the center of his jaw, and his head snapped back against the concrete before his body went limp.

She stood, intending to help Hatter, but there was no need: the Resistance agent suddenly threw himself forwards, pulling himself free of his jacket and leaving the Suit with nothing to protect him but a scrap of cloth. Hatter let fly with his right fist; the Suit tumbled back onto the stairs in a dead faint, his jaw hanging at an unnatural angle.

"You alright?" he asked, breathing hard.

"Yep," she replied, turning back to face the Resistance agent. "How about you, are you okay?"

The agent had been bending over White, his back to them, but he faced them at her question. Jelly blinked.

"Jack?" she asked.

He stood without answering, but now that she had a good look at his face there could be no mistaking the stubborn set of his jaw anywhere, even if he was mysteriously brunet.

"You're with the Resistance?" she demanded.

"I rather think I should be asking you that," he replied.

The air hummed louder, and she could see the Scarab's shadow play across the building in front of them. She grabbed Jack by the wrist and made a dash for the shrubbery, Hatter following close behind. She pressed herself flat against the wall behind the shrubs, Hatter to her right and Jack to her left.

"Who's this then?" Hatter whispered in her ear as the Scarab made its way across the dell.

"Hatter, this is Jack Heart," she told him. "Jack, meet Hatter."

"What," Hatter said, more a statement then a question. He stood on his toes to peer over her head at Jack; Jelly gave him a firm yank and a stern warning look that told him on no uncertain terms to stop rustling the branches.

"That's the bloody heir apparent?" he asked.

"Heir presumptive," Jelly corrected.

"Perhaps we might just stick with heir?" Jack suggested. Jelly shrugged. It wasn't really an area she had much experience with, but she imagined it smarted a little when your mother called a full session of Court to strip inheritance of the throne from you and give it to your hypothetical future wife instead. That probably explained the whole Resistance agent thing, come to think of it, though it still begged the question: just how many people did she know who were secretly members of the Resistance, anyway?

"Seriously, you're the Prince of Hearts?" Hatter demanded.

"Yes," Jack told him.

"He's normally blond," Jelly added.

"Well, that explains everything," Hatter said, words basted liberally with sarcasm. The humming in the air stopped as the Scarab docked.

"Let's go," Jelly said, and they went, curving around the building and taking the covered bridge into the next building over before beginning their way down.

Jelly didn't think they would be followed: the board they'd used as a bridge would stand out immediately to any Suits wondering who had taken out the Rabbits. That would imply that they'd gone up and west, rather than south and down. It still grated though, when a few moments after they'd rescued him Jack piped up with "Where exactly are we going?"

"The shop," Hatter replied, peering over the ledgeway to see if the ladder was clear. It was, and he began to climb down it.

"And the shop is..?" Jack asked.

"Where Gryphon will be meeting us," Jelly replied, motioning to the ladder.

"Gryphon?" Jack repeated.

"Yeah, Gryphon," Jelly confirmed.

Jack looked dismayed, and didn't budge.

Hatter poked his head above the ledge. "Are you two coming?"

"Eventually," Jelly said, before turning back to Jack. "What about Gryphon?"

"He's under the impression that I'm working for my mother," Jack said.

"What gave him that idea?" Hatter asked, eyes narrowing.

"The fact that she's my mother, I believe," Jack replied drily.

"Blood is thicker than water," Hatter pointed out.

"Not in my family, it isn't," Jack retorted.

Hatter looked at him, and then at her, wholly unimpressed.

"Can we continue this conversation when we're inside, please?" Jelly asked. Before either of the two men could reply, a small boy rounded the corner on the ledgeway on the opposing side of the lacuna. Jelly glared at him until he skittered out of sight.

"Yes," Hatter agreed.

Jack looked uncertain.

"Don't make me carry you," Jelly warned him. Jack let out a small huff of annoyed breath, and followed the Tea Seller down.

The fog had largely burned off when they waited for Jack's arrival, and as they walked through the city now it was almost pleasant out. The sun shone brightly down upon them, and even if Hatter's chosen route was his most effifying one yet, her fingers didn't go numb and she even unbuttoned the jacket a little. Jack kept up better than she would have expected, stopping only to occasionally say things like "Didn't we just pass that building half an hour ago?"

"Half a what?" Hatter asked, not stopping.

"Just how long were you away for, anyway?" Jelly demanded.

"Six weeks," Jack replied. "I went to New York- it was a lot of fun."

Jelly nearly lost her footing, managing to latch onto the wall before falling down completely. Jack had been to her home- well, probably not her _home_ exactly, but he'd been to her home city.

"You just left yesterday, on this end," she told him, pulling herself upright and ignoring the concerned look Hatter threw her.

"Really?" Jack asked, sounding surprised. "It was supposed to be longer."

"Really," Jelly told him, and nodded her head forwards to move him along. Jack didn't budge, but Hatter leaned back against the wall, clearly taking everything in.

"Just how long have you been with the Resistance?" Jack asked.

"Since yesterday," she told him.

"I'm flattered."

"Don't be."

She moved forwards; Jack began to move when she overtook him, jogging to get back in between her and Hatter, and the three of them went back on the move. They stayed that way, just long enough that Jelly was beginning to wonder if Hatter himself had gotten lost, before she realized that they were back in his neighborhood. They walked down the alley that lead to the promenade-side of his shop, and then stopped, the sound of a pretty thorough ransacking drifted towards them. Hatter rounded the corner with no small amount of trepidation, and then pulled himself up behind the phone booth.

There was a posse of Suits- Spades, from Dudley's deck, and Darrel, and a man who appeared to be wearing her father's cookie jar on his head. He had Gryphon by the collar, and was shaking him like a ragdoll.

"Have you seen him?" The jar-headed man asked.

Oh. Oh, _shit_.

"I don't know who you're talking about!" Gryphon replied. "I'm just here for the Tea!"

He wasn't wearing the jar on his head; he was wearing it _as_ his head.

"Get out of here!" March snarled, and threw the Resistance man bodily off the porch. She heard Jack take a sharp breath in when he tumbled off the walkway and into the city below. Fucking fuck fuckers…

"It can't be," Hatter murmured, much more politely.

March's head, as it were, snapped up with a mechanical twist, and he turned his face towards them.

"It is," Jelly said, giving Jack a shove to get him moving. "Run."

The three of them scrambled back the way they'd come, March following at his inevitable, double-time pace. Hatter turned around and watched him approach, horrified, until Jelly reached out grabbed him by the hand. Then he shook himself out of his stupor, and made a dash for a small ramp.

"This way," he said, pulling her along.

"But-" she protested. Hatter's shop was fairly close to the water, and the way this ramp lead would trap them against it.

"Trust me," Hatter said. Jack apparently needed no such cajoling, and sped down the ramp without them, which meant that Jelly had to follow. Even if they weren't quite friends these days, he was her ticket into the Resistance, after all.

They ran down until they reached the docks, and that's when Jelly realized that Hatter did know what he was doing after all. His boat was docked at the end, waiting for them.

"That way," Hatter said, turning around again to watch the posse's approach.

"The boat," Jelly clarified for Jack's benefit, pulling Hatter forwards.

Hatter ran ahead of them both and jumped into the back, tugging at the ripcord. Jack followed close behind, tugging at the knots on the moorings. Jelly pulled out the knife from her boot, and cut them free.

"Keep your head down," she ordered, pushing Jack to the far side of the boat. She replaced the knife and drew out her gun just as March stepped off the ramp. Hatter managed to get the motor started just as she opened fire, shattering one of the assassin's new ceramic ears, and causing the rest of the Suits to dive for cover. Hatter scrambled into the driver's seat, and they sped off, leaving the posse behind, and Jelly quickly sat down before she fell off.

"What was that?" Jack asked.

"Mad March," Jelly yelled, the wind whipping her words away as soon as they were out of her mouth.

"What?"

"I said Mad March!" Jelly repeated.

"What?" Jack said again, but this time it was the sort of question that was directed at the world at large, rather than her.

"What did you think?" Jelly demanded. "That your mother was just going to let you jump through the Looking Glass without comment? The minute word reached her she ordered my father to bring him back so he could track you!"

Jack looked away. Jelly scoffed to herself.

"Right," Hatter said, slowing the boat down enough that he could be heard. "Our contact's dead, and my shop's no longer a safe zone. What are we doing next?"

"I need to get to the Resistance," Jack said.

"Same here," Jelly added quickly.

"Well, the only contacts I have are in the city, so." He stopped short as the air began to hum, and Jelly turned around so she could see a Scarab making its way towards them. "First we have to shake that royal flush. Hold on."

He turned back to the wheel and they sped off, Jack's tie whipping out and hitting her in the face as they did so.

Hatter beached the boat beneath an overhang, and made a crowflight for a pile of large, broad branches to cover the boat. Jelly helped Jack out of the boat, and then went to go help Hatter with the branches.

"Are we meant to be in the Forest of Wabe?" Jack asked as they worked.

"Yes," Hatter replied. "I don't know who that weirdo leading the posse is," Jelly shot him a skeptical look, which he ignored. "But he's got one hell of a nose for blood. And this is the place to find it."

There was a long, animalistic whine, as though in response. Jack whirled around, trying to spot the sound's origin.

"I'm assuming you've got some sort of idea how to keep that from being our blood?" Jelly asked, gesturing to where the branches had now covered the boat completely. The branches were old enough, and adequate enough, that she got the impression Hatter had put them there himself. That implied that he must have some idea how to navigate the forest.

"Of course I do," Hatter replied. "We can't shake them, and we can't fight them, so we're going to trap them. Come on."

He started up the slope; Jelly followed, tugging Jack along with her. They moved through the forest, uneven terrain causing Jack to stumble every once and a while.

"Keep it down," Hatter hissed as they came to a clearing. There was another whine, closer this time.

"What was that?" Jack asked.

"Yeah, this the part where you both find a tree you can climb," Hatter told them.

"And what are you going to be doing?" Jelly demanded.

"I'm going to be bait. Go," Hatter ordered, and then jogged off in the direction of the sound.

"Bait for what?" Jelly said, following him, Jack close behind her.

"A Jabberwock," Hatter replied. Jelly stared at him in disbelief.

"Are you insane? Do you have a death wish or something?" she cried.

"Unless _you_ have one, I'd quit it with the questions and start running," Hatter replied.

"You're going to lead it back to the posse?"

"Yes!"

"That's your plan?"

"Yes, now would you just please-"

"It's here," Jack interrupted, pointing behind them. They both spun around, and watched as the Jabberwock revealed itself, burbling as it came.

"Run," Hatter said, and they took off, the Jabberwock following close behind.

Or at least, she and Jack did. Hatter had gone off in the opposite direction; but she really couldn't worry about that now. Jack was still having trouble navigating the terrain, and if the Jabberwock caught him, she may as well return to the Casino for her execution right then and there. Provided it didn't get her too, of course.

Sure enough, Jack's foot caught on a root before too long, and he went tumbling over into a nearby stump. The Jabberwock itself got caught between two trees, pushing forwards in an attempt to reach him. Jelly went for her gun, but before she could draw it out, Hatter appeared, and punched the creature in the face.

The Jabberwock reared back, bellowing in pain, and Jelly stared; Hatter helped Jack to his feet and then pulled her by the arm, and the three of them took off again. They managed to get several cubits away, before falling into a pit trap full of stakes.

"Ow!" Jelly exclaimed, clutching at her arm.

Hatter groaned in agreement next to her. "Everyone alright?"

"Fantastic!"Jack said, not without a touch of hysteria.

The ground shook. "Be quiet," Hatter whispered, as the Jabberwock came closer. "Stay still."

Jelly ignored that last bit and reached for her gun. The Jabberwock craned its head into the pit, burbling slightly and exuding the smell of rancid cabbages. It looked down at them, bug-eyed and open-mouthed, and then stuck itself on one of the stakes. It screamed in pain, dislodged itself, and whiffled away.

Hatter coughed, and forced himself upright. Jelly got to her knees and inspected her arm- it was bleeding sluggishly, but was more a scrape than an actual cut, which meant that it was mostly just painful. This likely had a lot to do with the way that the stake had had to rip open the knife sheath she'd had strapped to her arm before it could get to her arm itself.

They'd been lucky. Jack seemed to have missed the stakes altogether, and was now checking his pockets to see if anything had fallen out. Hatter had broken one with his fall, but judging from the way he was moving, that had resulted in bruises rather than a life-threatening injury. That was a bit odd, but that might have something to do with his ability to punch Jabberwocks away. Or maybe he was just wearing a good set of body armor.

"Vermin!" came a shout from above. Jelly looked up, and saw an elderly man in what appeared to be chainmail, armor and a very curly beard. "Saboteurs! Anarchists!"

"Um," Jelly began, but stopped when she realized that there weren't any words.

"I was this close to catching him!" the man groused. "This close!"

Jelly blinked. Nope, he was still there.

"Degenerate bagheads," the man sniffed. "Come up, so that I might have a look at you jolt-headed louts."

The three of them exchanged looks.

"How?" Jelly demanded, finally, gesturing to the steep side of the pit.

The man looked troubled for a minute, before brightening. "I'll fetch a rope," he told them, and then clanked away.

"Was that a knight?" Jelly demanded.

"He looked sort of knight-ish," Hatter replied uncertainly. Jack began to scrabble around the bottom of the pit, clearly looking for something.

"Is this what you're missing?" Hatter asked, holding up her knife.

"That's mine," Jelly said, as Jack shook his head. She twisted around, found Hatter's hat, and held it out to him. "Trade?"

"Sure," Hatter said, and they did.

Jelly looked in dismay at the ruined bit of leather that had been her arm sheath, and put before it and the knife into the jacket pocket. Jack let out a sigh of relief as his hands closed around something that looked like a small box, and the knight-ish man threw a rope down to them, knocking Hatter's hat off again in the process.

"Oi!" he shouted.

"A thousand apologies for the bad aim!" the old man replied. "Now ascend, you brutish, sheep-biting scuds!"

"Sure, why not?" Jelly said, and took hold of the rope. The sides of the pit were just soft enough that she had difficulty getting enough leverage to climb, but once she'd made it to the edge, the likely-knight helped her up with a snort of "Wayward, shard-born haggard."

He did the same for Hatter ("Mewling, ill-nurtured lewdster.") and Jack ("Impertinent, ill-bred harpy.") before clanking away again, muttering something about horses.

"Well," Jelly said. "Let's not do that again."

"No, let's not," Jack agreed swiftly. "Hatter?"

"The posse will have found a place to land and the boat by now," Hatter said. "Which would mean my plan is defunct."

"Your plan is what we're never doing again," Jack pointed out.

"It also means we've got a limited amount of time before the posse finds us," Hatter continued.

"March will probably latch onto the fact that there's a Jabberwock in the woods," Jelly said. "That will put Darrel on his guard."

"Yeah, but is March going to defer to this Darrel's judgment?" Hatter questioned.

"He's the Ten of Clubs. And it would depend on what sort of mood March was in," Jelly said. "He was probably looking to find whoever killed him, rather than Jack."

"It would also depend on what sort of mood my mother was in," Jack added.

"Worse," Jelly told him. "She was definitely one of her worse moods, when I left, and I don't think she's gotten any better since then."

"Puttocks!" the knight yelled, as he came back into view, leading two horses by the reigns. He left them by the edge of the clearing, and took another look at the pit trap they'd fallen into. "Subverters!" He made his way towards them, face reddening alarmingly. "Pig-pushing flecks!" He shook his fists in the air. "Bug-bashers!"

"Who the hell _are_ you?" Jelly demanded.

"I am a knight!" he informed them.

"No, really?" Jack asked.

"Of course!" The old man marched towards them, and then smiled. "A White Knight, to be precise. Sir Charles Eustace Fotheringhay Le Malvois III." He drew himself up proudly, chin jutting forwards, before he realized that he hadn't done anything but confuse them more. "Who are you?"

"I'm Jelly," she replied, after a beat. "This is Hatter, and Jack."

"Have you been out here all this time?" Jack demanded.

"What do you mean by that?" Sir Charles said, pushing his face into Jack's interpersonal space.

"He means we thought all the knights were wiped out years ago," Hatter clarified.

"Well, you thought wrong, as you can see," Sir Charles drew himself up again. "I'm as fit as a butcher's dog."

"Are there any more of you?" Jack asked.

"Of course not!" Sir Charles said, sounding affronted. "My Nan used to say that if I were the only bachelor left in the world-"

"Knights," Jelly interrupted. "He meant are there any more knights around?"

"Heavens no," Sir Charles scoffed. "Are you mad? We were all wiped out years ago."

"So you dug that pit all on your own?" Hatter asked.

"You think I'm too old?" Sir Charles thundered, charging at them. All three of them began taking cautionary steps back. "Well, let me tell you something, knugface- youth is vastly overrated. I may have put on a few years, but I'm crafty. I have a very inventive mind stacked high with groundbreaking, state-of-the-art ideas. The Beehive Mousetrap, for instance." He moved away again, back towards the pit. "This here pit, as you so rudely call it," he marched back to them again "Is, in fact, my third attempt at the Gravity-Assisted Snare, Mark IV." He turned away from them once more, still projecting indignance.

"You're mad as a box of frogs," Hatter declared, reflecting her own thoughts perfectly. "How the hell have you survived?"

Sir Charles spun around, and wiggled his arms a bit. Out of the corner of her eyes, Jelly saw Hatter shake his head in utter bafflement.

"Hmm?" the knight said, as though just noticing that they were still standing there. "Oh yes. I'm a knight, and I'm an inventor, as I've said," he clanked towards them, this time at a much more sedentary pace, "Although, if I'm honest, it's strictly on a part-time basis."

"You don't say," Hatter muttered.

"And I dabble in the Black Arts, now and then," Sir Charles continued, given no indication that he'd heard the younger man, "Soothsaying, toenail readings, that sort of thing. Here let me show you! Give me your palm," he didn't wait for permission, but grabbed Hatter's hand and studied it intently, muttering to himself.

"Peachy," Hatter said, mouth pressed into a thin line. Behind his back, Jelly met Jack's eyes.

"Don't look at me," the prince said, throwing up his hands. "I'm not entirely sure if we're on the same planet anymore."

"GAH!" Sir Charles yelled, causing them all to jump. Quicker than Jelly would have believed him capable of being, he dropped Hatter's hand and grabbed Jack's. "What's that on your finger?"

"Nothing," Jack said, too quickly to be believed. He tried to jerk his hands out of the old man's grip, but the knight held fast. "It's the sacred ring, the Stone of Wonderland!"

"_What_?" Jelly and Hatter asked as one, rounding on him. Jack stared back at them, wide-eyed, as Sir Charles held his hand up so that the Stone glittered in the afternoon sun.

"You stole the Stone of Wonderland?" Jelly demanded.

Jack didn't reply, but instead tugged himself free of the knight. Sir Charles for his part dropped to his knees and began to moan. "It is meant to be! This time, this place-"

"You stole! The Stone! Of Wonderland!" Jelly repeated.

"Yes, I stole the Stone of Wonderland," Jack replied, straightening his tie.

"This meeting in woods," Sir Charles continued to groan.

"When?" Jelly demanded. "You weren't wearing that when we rescued you!"

Jack didn't reply.

"The stars are aligned in a cosmic ray of hope!" Sir Charles gushed.

"Did you have that on you the entire time?" Jelly pressed.

"No, I teleported back to the Looking Glass while we were running from the Jabberwock and stole it then," Jack snapped.

"Really?" Sir Charles said, sounding impressed.

"No!" Jack said. "I took it with me when I escaped. When Agent White captured me, he took it, and then when you rescued me I got it back and stuck it in my pocket. It fell out in the pit-"

"Gravity-Assisted Snare Mark IV!" Sir Charles interjected.

"And so I thought I'd put it on my finger for safekeeping, as it looks like we'll be doing a lot more running from Suits in the future," Jack finished.

Sir Charles levered himself up, chin jutting proudly forwards once more. "Jack, Hatter, Jelly. I, Sir Charles Eustace Fotheringhay Le Malvois III, White Knight and Guardian of the Curtsey, would be honored to escort you and the Stone to safety."

"That's very kind of you, Charlie," Hatter began, after a beat.

"And we accept," Jelly finished for him.

"We do?" Jack asked.

"Am I the only sane person here?" Hatter demanded.

"Look, he's one hundred and fifty years old and nuttier than a fruitcake, but he's lasted this long. He probably knows a thing or two," Jelly said. Both men stared back at her, unconvinced.

"And he has horses," Jelly pointed. "We'll cover more ground on horseback than we will on foot."

"That's correct!" Charlie said brightly. "Come along, vassals."

"Did he just call us vessels?" Hatter asked.

"I don't even," Jack began, before giving up. "Let's just get out of the forest before Mad March catches us."

There were only two horses, which meant that they would have to double up. Jelly looked at Hatter and Jack for a moment, before deciding that as entertaining at it might be to have them partner up, there was no way it wouldn't end in a gunshot. Jack rode behind Charlie; Hatter and Jelly followed behind, their horse dragging a net that obscured their prints.

"Well, they always said that there were things in this woods that defied imagination," Hatter said, after having gotten used to the swaying rhythm of Guinevere. Before Jelly could reply, Charlie burst into song.

"Hey nonny-nonny!" he called out. "Hey nonny-nonny! Heeeeeeeeey nonny-nonny!"

Jack turned around as much as he could in the saddle, and sent them a speaking look. Jelly beamed back at him, and figured Hatter was probably doing the same: at any rate, he turned back a few minutes later, looking like he was about to brain himself on the knight's armor.

"This isn't what you imagined?" Jelly joked.

"Hell no," Hatter scoffed, then, after a moment of silence added "Well, I did have a few thoughts about taking you out on a horse ride."

"Oh?" Jelly asked, surprised.

"Yeah," Hatter replied. "We'd be out on our own, and I'd ask you if you were comfy-"

"I'd point out that we were on a horse," Jelly interrupted.

"And then I'd suggest that you lean back," Hatter continued, a smile in his voice. "And let my body take the weight."

"Like this?" Jelly asked playfully, leaning back into his chest, careful not to disturb the reigns.

"Yeah," Hatter purred into her ear.

"And the wind and the rain!" Charlie sang, even more loudly.

"Of course," Hatter added. "We'd also be without the prince, Stone, and musical accompaniment, in my imagination."

"Sounds like we'd be ditching the horse soon, too," Jelly pointed out.

"You read my mind." Hatter sighed, and straightened a bit. "Back to work then?"

"I suppose so," Jelly said, straightening herself.

"Well then," Hatter said. "What's Jack's deal?"

"You're going to have to be more specific," Jelly said.

"I mean, why exactly is he here? What's his angle?"

"I don't know," Jelly replied. "I just found out he was Resistance a few hours ago."

Hatter didn't respond.

"It makes sense, though," Jelly explained. "He's not really the bloodthirsty sort, and his relationship with his parents pretty much runs the gamut from nonexistent to tumulus as a result. It's kind of why he's heir presumptive, and engaged to Duchess."

"Duchess?" Hatter inquired.

"It's-" complicated in an incredibly fucked-up way "sort of an arranged thing."

"So, he wants the throne for himself, then," Hatter guessed.

"That would be my guess," Jelly admitted.

"So he comes into contact with the Resistance, and they what? Ask him to run off to the Other Side with the Stone?"

"That seems to be what happened," Jelly said, shrugging.

"I mean, getting the Ring out of the Queen's control is one thing," Hatter said. "I can see that. Without the Ring, the Looking Glass fails. When the Looking Glass fails, the Tea fails. Without the Tea there's no quick fix, and without her quick fix the Queen falls. But why entrust it to Jack?"

"Well he would have access to it," Jelly pointed out. "Having him in the Resistance is probably a good thing, as far as setting up a government that people would recognize."

"Dodo probably wouldn't," Hatter told her.

"Color me shocked," Jelly said, deadpan.

"He's really attached to the idea of making Wonderland into a republic," Hatter explained, "With himself as the head republican, of course."

"Naturally," Jelly snorted.

They went along their way in relative silence for a time, leaving the Forest of Wabe behind and galumphing down the Fungiferous Foothills. Charlie sang, the horses plod, and finally Jelly asked "Why work for him, then?"

"Huh?" Hatter said.

"Why work for Dodo?" Jelly clarified.

"Well, he _is_ as high up as I went in the Resistance, until yesterday," Hatter pointed out. "And he took me in after my mother died. I would say that I owed him a bit for that, but considering how he acted after my father went, I'm going to go with not so much. There are other people in the Library besides him, and some of them I do owe, so I put up with his shit more often than not."

A head of them, Charlie stopped singing, pulled his mount to the left, and pulled back a curtain of willow leaves.

"Welcome," he announced grandly. "To the City of the Knights."

Jelly looked out past the knight and prince; the view was spectacular. The building stood, weathered but still upright, on either side of a crevasse, poking out of wild woodland and a fluvial system that included a few waterfalls.

"Well, well," Hatter said quietly. "What do you know?"

"How is it still standing?" Jack asked. "I thought it burnt to the ground!"

"It's made of stone, lunkhead," Charlies scoffed. "Wood burns, cloth burns, crops burn, animals burn, and people burn." Jack flinched violently. "Stone doesn't."

Charlie led them down a hazardous looking path and into a stable. Hatter slid off of Guinevere, and then held out a hand to help her down. She took it briefly, and the followed Charlie as the knight led them on foot over the bridge and around the twisting alleys of the city.

"Before the war with the Queen of Hearts, this was the greatest city in the realm," Charlie bragged. "The Red King and his elected Council ruled Wonderland with the wisdom of the ages. We lived in harmony for a thousand years."

"And then the Hearts destroyed everything," Jack finished for him wearily.

"When the Queen came to power, she only wanted to feel the good, not the bad," Charlie confirmed. "Believe it or not, this was once the throne room. Now, all that's left is the throne."

And the skeleton of the Red King, sitting still with his crown on his head and his sword in hand. Jack swallowed audibly.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he told Charlie stiffly, not meeting his eyes.

"Yes, well," Charlie replied. "That's enough of that. Who wants to be helpful and gather wood for a fire?"

"I will," Jelly volunteered.

"You know the difference between kindling and tinder and logs?" Charlie asked gravely.

"Yes," Jelly replied. It might have been years since she'd gone with her family to Heather Hills, but she still remembered-

Oh god. Her father.

Between being chased by Mad March and the Jabberwock and finding Charlie she hadn't even thought. Was he okay? Was he out? Gryphon had promised, but Gryphon was dead, and she wasn't sure what a dead man's word was worth in the Resistance. She'd been seen. She'd shot off March's ear, for crying out loud. There was no way that would go unanswered. If he was still there, they could- they might-

"Then you can show these two miscreants how it's done," Charlie proclaimed.

"What?" Alice asked, and then gave herself a mental shake. "I mean, yeah, of course."

"Good," Charlie proclaimed, and then clanked off.

"Okay," Jelly said, turning to the men. "Let's spread out."


	5. Nine of Swords

_**NINE OF SWORDS**_

_Upright__ - Deception, premonitions and bad dreams, suffering and depression, cruelty, disappointment violence, loss and scandal. All of these may be overcome through faith and calculated inaction. This is the card of the martyr and with it comes new life out of suffering._

_Reversed__ - Distrust and suspicion, despair, misery and malice. Total isolation away from comfort and help. Institutionalisation, suicide, imprisonment and isolation._

When Alice was eighteen years old, she realized that she needed to start watching herself.

It had been one of those days that had started out bad, rapidly declined to wrongwards, and ended up plunging straight through rock bottom. Her hand had been in charge of the Queen's protection detail as she visited the city for her unbirthday celebration. One of the Resistance, a woman in a veil who had given herself away by running out immediately, had managed to get in a lucky shot that had shattered the Queen's crystal goblet. Jelly had run after her immediately, losing her when she took a flying leap off one of the plank bridges onto a ledgeway that she'd been loath to copy. Then she'd returned to the site of the shooting, absolutely frumious, and been informed by Uthar that Claude had not taken kindly to her disappearance; contrariwise, he thought it must be part of a larger pattern of insubordination. The upshot was that her Ten had given orders that she report to the Casino for a full debriefing.

"I was going after the shooter," Jelly hissed.

"And I believe you," Uthar placated over the top of his omnipresent clipboard. "But you don't have to convince me, you have to convince the Tweedles."

"But-"

"I already had to talk him out recommending you for execution," Uthar told her. "Don't make this worse on yourself. Report to the Casino."

Jelly turned her gaze to where Othello was pretending to be engrossed with guarding a few terrified civilians. He turned so she couldn't see his face; Jelly grimaced, not entirely sure why she expected any different. Othello had his own life to look after, and contradicting Claude in this situation wouldn't do anything to extend it.

"Six," Uthar said, a note of warning in his voice.

"I'm going, Eight," Jelly replied, and left for the Scarab dock.

_Okay, Jelly,_ she told herself later, as she watched the Casino loom ever closer. _This isn't going to be pleasant. But if you couldn't handle not pleasant, you wouldn't be alive right now. Just stick to what happened, and you'll come out the other end._

Later still, things seemed a lot less simple.

"She should have jumped," one brother observed, his tone calm and even. She shouldn't have been able to hear it, as he was standing on one end of the plank bridge she was in the middle of, and the wind was howling, threatening to push her off into the lacuna below, but she did.

"Should have, could have," the other brother replied from the opposite end of the bridge. "But why not would have?"

The wind howled, and Jelly crouched down, clutching onto either side of the board with white-knuckled hands. "Because I didn't want to die!" she yelled.

The Doctors paid her no heed, but the wind picked up, and the plank bridge shook, and flipped over. Jelly screamed, and clung on tightly, trying to scramble back on top of board. Then one of the Tweedles kicked his side of the board off the ledgeway, and she fell, wind whistling through her ears and limbs flailing uselessly until-

She was standing still and upright, the walls of the Truth Room completely white and empty. She seemed to be alone, and for a moment the only sound was her heavy breathing.

"Do you know what you did wrong?" One of the Doctors was suddenly standing right in front of her. She leapt back, and he continued. "Are you wrinkle-free?"

"What?" she replied.

"That would take a very hot iron," his brother answered for her, appearing at his side. There was a hiss and the smell of burning meat; Jelly flinched, but no pain came.

"But she'll do," the first Doctor concluded. The door to the Truth Room opened, and Jelly ran for it before he could give her permission to go. She slammed the door shut closed behind her, and leaned back against it, panting.

_It's over_ she thought. _It's over, it's over, it's over, it's-_

_Snick._

Mad March was in the hallway with her, his switchblade open and glinted under the fluorescent light. His yellow hair was even more wild than usual, and his eyes were bloodshot.

There was an awful lot of speculation about why the assassins rarely associated with the other Suits. People would say that they were snobs who considered themselves above the rest of them, or that they suffered from crippling social anxiety, or were under orders to avoid interacting with Suits. These people were very rarely Spades. Once you had to work with assassins on a semi-regular basis, you quickly learned that the assassins the Queen hired need to kill the same way everyone else needed to sleep. Avoiding people meant not killing the ones they weren't supposed to touch, and killing the ones they weren't supposed to touch meant execution. Mad March was the Queen's favorite because in all his years of service, he hadn't slipped up once.

Jelly wondered if he would slip up today. Then her brain kicked itself back into gear, and she straightened. March would do whatever it was March planned on doing, but she shouldn't be showing any vulnerability to a homicidally deprived maniac.

"You've come a bit too late to join in," she told him.

_Snack._ His switchblade went back into its sheath.

"Eh, I'll catch the next one," he said.

"I thought they would have sent you after the Queen's almost-killer," Jelly said, moving past him.

His switchblade went _snicker-snack_ as he just barely managed to restrain himself. "They did. She pitched herself off a bridge before I could reach her."

"Shame," Jelly replied with mock sympathy, while a petty, vindictive part of her cheered _Good_.

"You're boyfriend's looking for you, by the way," March said.

Jelly rolled her eyes. March had a habit of referring to every man she regularly associated with as her boyfriend. It was one of those things about being the highest-ranking woman in the Spades that was more irritating than terrifying. "And which boyfriend would that be?"

"The prince," March said. "Though I can't see why he's not enjoying the first party he's gotten the Head Bitch to sign off on instead of looking for you."

"I'll be sure to pass along your concerns," Jelly said dryly. She turned the corner and broke into a sprint, not stopping until she'd reached the Royal Wing.

She could hear the music thumping loudly now, played on full blast since no one was trying to keep up the pretense that there was no party. As she stood there in the corridor, a couple of partygoers spilled out of the ballroom, limbs entangled, drunk, steeped, and completely oblivious to anything that wasn't them.

This must be for Grace, she realized suddenly. She was due to finish being ennobled tomorrow. Or was it today? Yesterday?

How long had she been in the Truth Room anyway?

"Jelly!" Jack called, the fakest smile she'd seen on him to date plastered on his face. "I've been looking for you."

"So I heard," Jelly replied, stepping carefully over the undulating couple. "What's the problem?"

"Problem?" Jack repeated, nodding his head towards a niche in the wall where a statue of Vilnius stood. Someone had gone through the trouble of lacing it up in a corset, Jelly noticed. She'd thought Jack's parties had a tendency to get out of hand before, but this was something else entirely.

Jack ducked his head beneath Vilnius' sword arm, and leaned against the wall, as Jelly settled herself opposite him. "Have you seen Duchess yet?"

"Have I?" Jelly asked, confused.

"Grace," Jack corrected himself. "They made her into a Duchess. Have you seen it yet?"

"I just got here," Jelly admitted. There was an obscene moan from one of the couple on the floor. "Though if she's in the same state as the rest of the party I'm pretty sure that-"

"Jack!"

Jack blinked and craned his head around the edge of the niche. A fine-boned arm curved around his shoulder and dragged him all the way out. Jelly followed, to find that the arm was attached to a curvy sort of woman in a slinky golden gown, her blonde curls piled high on her head. It took her a moment to realize that it was Grace; she supposed that was because she couldn't remember the last time she'd seen her without her Club's uniform on.

As she watched, Grace all but plastered herself over Jack. "The two of you are going to be even worse now, aren't you?" Jelly realized.

Jack coughed, placed his hands on her hips, forcing her off him. Grace molded herself to his side instead, which Jelly took to mean yes.

"Grace," she greeted. "You look fantastic."

Grace smiled, as fake as Jack's had been and twice as sharp. "Oh, it's Duchess now."

"Well, you look fantastic, Duchess."

"Thank you, Six," she said. It sounded like a dismissal. Grace turned back to Jack, cupping his face in her hands. "Your parents are worried about you, Jack. Why did you leave the party?"

There was something off here. Jack went through most of his life looking like he had a stick up his ass, true, but he was never this tense with Grace. And as for Grace, she normally tried her hardest to put some distance between Jack and his parents, if only metaphorically. She was certainly never this… clingy.

Maybe by 'worried about you' she meant 'murderous and about to send the guards after you'? Or maybe Jelly hadn't actually left the Truth Room. That would explain why everything seemed distorted.

"Well, let's not keep them waiting," Jack said, not really answering her question. He took a hold of Jelly and dragged her with them back into the ballroom. No sooner had she entered, though, then Othello threw himself more or less on top of her, laughing uproariously.

"Jelly! Jelly_bean_!" he said. "The Tweedles didn't turn you to mush! I was _worried_!"

"Oh for crying out loud," Jelly said, pulling herself free of Jack so she could try and stand Othello upright. Jack disappeared into the crowd, pulled along by the Duchess. "How much Mirth did you have?" she demanded.

"Lots," Othello said cheerfully, before picking her up and beginning to swing her around, ignoring her squawk of indignation. "Lots and lots and lots and lo-"

He crashed down onto the floor, bringing her with him.

"Okay big guy, let's find a place for you to sleep this off," Jelly groaned, helping him to his feet. They staggered into the corridor, passed the frotting couple and the statue of Vilnius (which was now sporting a pair of men's underpants on his sword) and stumbled into the elevator. Jelly pushed the button for the level of her quarters, and leaned Othello against the wall. He giggled, swaying with the motion of the elevator until the doors dinged open, and then they were off to her room.

"Sit," Jelly said, pushing him inside. Othello sat, if only from a lack of other options. "I'm going to get you some water. Stay here."

When she returned, glass in hand, Othello was drooling into her pillow. She rolled her eyes, left the water on her chest, and locked the door behind her.

She should have checked in with her father ages ago anyway.

The apartment was dark, and far away enough from the party to be silent as well. The door clicked loudly shut, followed shortly by the sound of crinkling bed sheets. Dad appeared in his bedroom doorway.

"Hey," she said.

"Oh thank God," Dad said, hurriedly crossing the room and pulling her into his arms. "You're alive. Thank God."

Jelly stood there for a moment, clutching him tightly and letting herself relax. Then she asked "How long was I in there?"

It had been just over two days since she'd been ordered to debrief, apparently. Dad gave her all the details as he made them hot chocolate; Uthar had informed him after his shift had ended, as per protocol, and he'd gone to the King immediately to try and get her released. He'd promised to look into it, but when Dad came back the next day she'd still been with the Tweedles, and he'd refused to do anymore work until she was released.

"They let me out of the cell not too long after dinner was packed away," Dad concluded. "Cricket walked me back here, and said that you'd be along shortly."

"I got a little caught up in Jack's party," Jelly explained, "For Grace. It seems to be a lot louder than usual."

"Ah?" Dad said, suddenly absorbed in watching his drink.

Jelly thought, staring absently down into her mug, watching the little marshmallows dissolve with unfocused eyes. They'd put Dad in a cell for refusing to make Tea. It wasn't surprising, really, but I did drive home certain facts.

Firstly, the Crown still needed her Dad to be their Carpenter. Secondly, Dad was no more willing to be their Carpenter now then he was when they first kidnapped him. And lastly, with her mother dead she was their only source of control over him.

It should have been a comforting thought, at least somewhat. They were necessary, and that would protect them. But, somehow, it wasn't very comforting at all.

What it boiled down to, she supposed, was that needed was not the same thing as invulnerable. There had been other Carpenters before her father, she knew. They'd mostly died of old age, lab accidents, or suicide, but at least one of them had been executed when he'd proven to be too much trouble. There was no reason to expect that her father was in a much safer position, especially if her actions were being counted as a part of the trouble he caused.

Jelly didn't think that she had 'a pattern of insubordination'; she rather thought she had a tendency to follow orders even when she really wanted to just go home already. Then again, it didn't really matter what _she_ thought, it mattered what others thought of her. If she appeared to be too much trouble, on top of the fact that her father was barely forcing himself to work as it was, then they would both be on the executioner's docket before too long.

She couldn't let that happen.

The Queen hated her, of course. The Queen hated everyone, women doubly so. Claude didn't like her, but he recognized her competence enough to give the nod to her promotions even after she and Othello were no longer formally partnered. Mercutio approved of her methods as long as they had the desired results, which was a lot more often than not these days. Harlan hated her, for the way she disrupted normal proceedings and for the fact that she'd nearly gotten him executed when she reported that he was drinking Calm while on duty. One out of four superiors was… kind of bad. She hadn't even gotten to her immediate superiors yet.

That needed to change.

"Are you going to be okay, Jellybean?" Dad asked.

Jelly started, and looked up. Dad sent her a concerned look.

"I'm fine," Jelly told him, and then took an overly-large gulp of hot chocolate as though to prove it. "I'll be fine," she confirmed, after she managed to swallow.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Dad asked.

"No," Jelly replied reflexively. "Absolutely not, no."

"Okay," Dad replied, spreading his hands out in a calming gesture. "But maybe you should think about taking tomorrow off."

"No," Jelly said again. "No, I _need_ to be at work tomorrow. I've been gone long enough; if I wait rumors will only start spreading that I've been damaged."

"Are you sure?" Dad pressed. "I can talk to the King. I'm probably not his favorite person right now, but he'll still hear me out."

"No, I'm sure," Jelly replied. Though, talking to the King didn't seem like such a bad idea. Dad would go to him when he needed something done swiftly; Claude did much the same. She'd never have the Queen on her side, but maybe, if she went and apologized on behalf of her father, and kept him in the loop as far as things in the City went, she could have the King. That would certainly be a start.

Dad stood up and squeezed her shoulder. "Are you going to finish that?" he asked, pointing with his free hand at her neglected mug.

"Yeah," Jelly replied, wrapping her hand around it. Dad leaned down and kissed the top of her head. "Don't worry about me, Dad. I'm fine, really."

Five years later, Jelly shifted the logs in the fire with the end of her stick. The fire crackled and spat out a shower of sparks in response; next to her, Hatter made an abortive move towards taking her stick away. Across the fire sat Jack, picking bits of meat off his borogrove bone, and just beyond that was Charlie, moving around in the half-dark that wasn't quite beyond the fire's glow."

"Anyone care for some more borogrove?" the Knight offered.

"No thanks," Jelly replied.

"I'll have some," Jack said, at the same time. Charlie handed over another rib, and Jack began to tear into it as the elderly man sent both her and Hatter disapproving looks.

"It's delicious," Jelly explained. "But I'm really full."

Hatter nodded along with her, looking innocent enough to conjure a halo around his hat until Charlie moved away, muttering about finding more wood for the fire. Then the smile slid from his face. Jelly poked the fire again.

What it all came down to was that she was pretty sure her father hadn't been moved from the Casino before she rescued Jack. And, as she'd been stupid enough to leave White alive, the Crown would know that she'd rescued him. There were quite a lot of things she could get away with in her allotted week; she doubted attacking the White Rabbit and then absconding with the prodigal heir and a double agent was one of them.

She poked the fire again. Hatter sent her a warning look.

Well, she might be able to get away with it if she went back to the Casino with said double agent and prodigal heir in tow. But neither of them would come willingly, she knew, and she'd be left in an even worse situation than she started out in. Her father would still need to get out of Wonderland. The Crown might be willing to not disbelieve her, but they would be suspicious of her actions for some time. The Resistance would be closed to her forever.

She used the end of her stick to roll one log off another, sending little glowing embers afloat in the air as she did.

Jack would never forgive her either, most likely, assuming they still had a relationship where forgiveness might be warranted. And Hatter would be humiliated, tortured, and executed. She didn't like that idea. She didn't like that idea at all.

She made to jab the fire again, when Hatter reached out and held the stick still. "If you keep doing that you're going to light my hat on fire," he said sternly.

"Sorry," Jelly apologized, more for her thoughts of turning him in than anything else.

It was strange. She felt more badly about the thought of betraying Hatter than she did about betraying Othello, who was probably having a time of it now that it turned out he was the second of a Resistance sympathizer. Then again, she needed Hatter more than she'd ever needed Othello. The fact that he was pitched in with the side she agreed with more than not might have something to do with it too.

She almost poked the fire again, before she caught herself, and snapped her stick in half. She threw both halves into the fire, and then cast about for a more constructive train of thought to board.

"So, New York?" she asked.

Jack finished picking his borogrove rib clean before tossing it in the dinner scrap pile and replying "Yes. The city New York, I mean, not just the state."

"The Oysters really named two different things the same name?" Hatter asked.

_The city so nice they named it twice_, Jelly nearly recited. Instead, Jack answered "Yeah, there's city of New York, and then the state of New York that the New York city is in."

"So did they name the country after the capital or did they-"

"Oh no, New York's not the capital," Jack told him. "And 'state' is how they subdivide their country."

Hatter looked confused for a minute. "Are you sure you don't mean 'county'?"

"No, I'm sure," Jack said. "Actually, if I recall correctly, New York the city has more than one county in it."

"What?" Hatter asked.

"Did you do the tourist thing?" Jelly asked, amused, and very certain that there was no way to explain New York to anyone who hadn't been there.

"Not really," Jack said, indicating his hair. "I was trying to blend in more than anything else."

"Is the jean and dress shirt combination really in style?" Jelly asked.

"I got the warning that I'd been found after I'd gone to bed. I just went with whatever was closest," Jack protested.

"Including the necktie?" Hatter observed.

Jack sent them a withering look, and moved the topic of conversation back off of himself. "I did get a chance to see the Empire State Building. Jenny took me out one afternoon."

"…Jenny?" Jelly asked.

"Yes, Jenny," Jack confirmed. "She's a martial arts instructor, very pretty."

Jelly stared at him, wondering if that was what it sounded like as anger began to run through her.

"You'd probably hate her," Jack added.

_Yeah, probably._ "Jack," Jelly said, keeping her voice very even. "You're engaged, remember?"

"It's an arrangement," Jack said. "Simply because it would be impolitic to-"

"_Arrangement_?" Jelly demanded, standing up suddenly enough to startle Hatter into getting up as well. "Do you have any idea what she went through in order to be able to marry you?"

"No," Jack bit out, rising to his feet as well, "Do you?"

"I don't need to," Jelly shot back. "I see how she reacts when the Tweedles are in the room with her. Jack, you humungous _prick_!"

Jack clasped his hands behind his back and met her glare evenly over the fire. Jelly suppressed the urge to leap over it and wring his neck.

"I'm surprised you care that much," Jack retorted icily, "Given the number of times I asked for your help and you refused."

"Don't you dare try to pin this on me," Jelly hissed. "There is nothing I can do. You- all you have to do is not _cheat_ on her-"

"What exactly do you think I've been doing these past five years?" Jack asked tartly.

"Having parties and stealing flamingos for illicit flights into the city," Jelly answered.

"I've been looking for a way to undo whatever it is they did to her!" Jack yelled. "How do you think I became this deeply involved with the Resistance?"

"I think you'd do anything to piss your parents off," Jelly snapped back. "I think, for all that they wouldn't give two shits about you otherwise, as long as you're their only heir you're untouchable and you want to push that as far as it will go!"

"What's all this now?" Charlie asked, clanking back into the circle of light. For a moment, no one said anything.

"You're vastly overestimating my parent's tolerance," Jack said at last. "For all that it reluctantly extends to a few ruined flamingos and rowdy partygoers, it doesn't stretch nearly far enough to cover this. If my parents knew that I worked for the Resistance- that I was actively trying to overthrow them- their preference for a blood heir would evaporate. They'd kill me, and adopt someone more suitable for their needs."

"Uh," Charlie said, looking between her and Jack with wary eyes, unprepared for how wrongward the conversation had gone. Jelly did feel a little bad, on his behalf and Hatter's, but her anger at Jack far outweighed her guilt.

"Yeah, and that sucks," Jelly shot back. "What makes you think that gives you free reign to cheat on Grace?"

"The fact that I haven't so much as seen Grace in five years!" Jack protested.

"What?" Jelly cried incredulously.

"Whatever they did to her made her into an entirely different person!" Jack yelled. "Duchess doesn't talk like Grace, or act like her or believe the things she did. She doesn't even like the same food! Don't pretend you haven't noticed!" Jack's hand flew out, nearly into the fire. He snatched it back before any damage could be done, and repeated. "I've been looking for a way to undo the damage for five years. At this point, it looks like there isn't one. I'm not convinced she's even in there anymore. There's just something my parents created prowling around in her skin, and I do _not_ owe any loyalty to it."

They stared at each other over the fire for a moment, before Charlie interrupted again with "I'm going to go on patrol. It's a very dark night and there may be beasts who-"

"I'll go," Jelly said, turning away from the fire and heading for the forest. If she didn't get out of here now, she would do something she would regret later.

"But you don't know the paths," Charlie protested. "Or the dangers. I've lived in these woods for-"

Jelly unholstered her gun and held it up so the men could see. "I'm armed, I'm angry, and I'm a Spade. I'll be fine."

Strangely enough, Charlie had nothing to say to that. But before she could safely leave the clearing that had once been the throne room, Jack's voice rang out "Fine. Walk away. But before you go, answer me this: have you seen Grace recently?"

"As a matter of fact I have." Jelly turned around just enough so that she could see Jack's face, and told him "She came to see me just before I left the Casino and asked me to look after you."

She stomped into the Wabe before he could collect himself enough to respond.

It really was very dark in the forest. She was used to the more gentle grayness of the city at night, where even if there wasn't a streetlamp on your corner, there were plenty glowing above it. Here the only source was the moon that grinned maliciously down at her, and the stars that twinkled just a bit too brightly.

Jelly tore through the woods, navigating her way by the contrast between the harder dark of the trees and the softer dark of the space between. It wasn't too long before she realized that she was being followed. The footsteps were too quiet to be Charlie's, and too sure to be Jacks; she wasted a few moments trying to evade him, before she remembered that Hatter was better at it than she was.

"I don't know how I could make this any clearer," Jelly said loudly. "But I'm not very good company right now."

"Well, you could write it out," Hatter said from his position a good twenty cubits behind her. "The glowing kind of ink would probably be best for this light."

Jelly turned around so that it would be possible for him to figure out that she was staring at him.

"There's always musical theater," Hatter added, taking a tentative step towards her. "You could write a play about how poor your company is."

"And then I suppose you'd come along and make it that much richer?" Jelly asked, holstering her gun.

"Of course," Hatter said, as though he were surprised she thought things could have gone any differently. "And then we'll have a dance number."

Jelly giggled. "Yeah, and Charlie and- and Jack will-" She leaned against the tree, shaking. "Will dress up the skeletons-" She gasped, tears welling up in her eyes and making it even more difficult to see. "-and we'll-"

Hatter placed a hand on her shoulder, and Jelly let out a proper sob.

"Right," he said, steering her off the tree and over to where a large stump was standing at about knee height. "Let's sit down a minute. I'm a bit knackered from chasing after you anyway."

"Smooth," Jelly said thickly as she sat down.

"I don't know why you're assuming I'm lying," Hatter said, mock affronted. "I mean, really, think back on the day I just had. First I get word that the bloody Ten of Spades wants to defect to me, and then she avoids me like I've got the nephelokokkygian plague. Then she pulls a gun on my boss…"

Jelly buried her face in her hands and let him speak, his arm around her shoulders the entire time. He'd moved onto talking about the first time he'd been in the Forest of Wabe before she had herself under enough control to straighten. She scrubbed the tears from her face with the back of her hand and he wound his commentary down.

"Sorry," she said. "It's been a long day for me too."

"I remember," Hatter informed her. His hand was still on her shoulder, and for all that she was no longer in danger of crying, she wasn't quite ready to shrug it off.

"I should probably apologize to Jack," she said, after a moment's pause. "He's still a giant dick, but that was-"

"Hitting below the belt so hard his whirligigs are now above it?" Hatter offered, after a moment of watching her struggle to find the words to complete her sentence.

Jelly glared a little, before giving up on glaring as a bad job. She was spent. "Yeah, something like that."

They were silent for a moment more, before Hatter said. "You know, I kind of wish my father had hung on a bit longer."

"Oh?" Jelly asked, not sure where this was going.

"Yeah," Hatter said. "You and he probably would have had a lot to talk about."

"How so?" Jelly asked.

Hatter pulled his arm away from her. "It's like this," he said, getting up. "My mother was Resistance, a pamphleteer. No, that's not right. She was _the_ pamphleteer. It's been almost twenty years since she died and still half the stuff in circulation is her work."

"She got caught," Jelly guessed.

"Yeah, she got caught," Hatter confirmed. "The Suits came in one night, roughed her up a bit, and whisked her away to the Casino. Dad went to collect her body a day or so later, and came back with the license required to sell the Queen's Teas in the shop."

"When my mother was executed," Jelly began. Hatter jerked in surprise, so she elaborated "She was caught helping people fight their addiction to Tea. That's kind of a big deal. It wasn't long after that when I started thinking about what sort of Suit I was going to be when I grew up."

"And that's what I don't get," Hatter cried. "Weren't you angry? Didn't you want it to stop? Why would you help keep it going?"

"Because I _can't_ stop it. I can't pardon everyone on the executioner's docket, I can't even pardon my own Suits when they end up there, and I've barely been able to stop my father from ending up there or worse," Jelly explained, anger rising again.

"But you're only making it go," Hatter said.

"Not always," Jelly pointed out. "I wouldn't be here if I hadn't let Bruno go, and he wasn't the first. And another thing," she stood as well, agitation jerking her arms about, "You're not exactly an innocent here yourself. You sell Tea. It might get you contacts, free information, and a healthy supply of bribing material, but that doesn't erase the fact that the Queen's reign is built on Tea, and you support that."

"No, it doesn't, and I don't forget that," Hatter snapped. "I couldn't, between Dormie and Dodo. It's part of why I take jobs like this. I'd have been much safer just leaving you with Dodo, you know."

"No, you'd probably have died, because I would have shot you if you tried that," Jelly told him.

"I wear body armor, and that's not the point," Hatter said. "The point is I know how much harm I'm doing. And I know how much good I'm doing. And I make sure I keep the second column at a higher value than the first."

"And you can quantify that?" Jelly asked snidely, folding her arms and leaning back against a tree.

"You're the one who's getting by with making the occasional exception," Hatter shot back, mimicking her posture. "As far as I can tell pretty much everyone in the Suits is getting by with either doing that or steeping themselves." Jelly snorted, but Hatter continued "I don't get why you keep at it."

"What would you like me to do?" Jelly demanded. "I mean, hypothetically speaking in some universe where I haven't already defected, what is there to do? If I started talking about overthrowing the Queen, the mostly likely thing that would happen would be that Darrel would tell the King, and then he'd have me taken down. Then he'd do to my father what he did to Grace. The only thing that would change would be that there would be a Carpenter who liked his job, and Othello would spend his first few months as Ten trying to separate himself from me by striking out the policy changes- and those are to your benefit, you know. Our focus shifted from Resistance activities to violent crimes after I took over as Ten, and believe me, I'm not stupid enough to think we got even a fraction of you after the food riots."

"Oh, I never took you for stupid," Hatter protested.

"Then what do you take me for?" Jelly asked.

"You're-" Hatter's answer was cut off by a roar from somewhere deeper in the forest.

"I think we should head back to camp," Jelly suggested.

"There, see? You're not stupid at all," Hatter said, and they went back the way they came.

Jelly thought about trying to explain things to Hatter as they went, but decided that it was no use with a non-Suit. They didn't get it; civilians thought of the Queen as a person mad with power, and as executions the extensions of her whims. Suits knew that there wasn't that much thought behind it, that her whims often didn't extend down as far as the level of individuals. They were just a pack of cards to her, faceless and interchangeable; the Queen needed someone to blame when things went wrong, and unless they came up with better targets, they were it. Executions weren't personal any more than Mt. Asclepius' eruptions were.

Except it wasn't a perfect metaphor, she realized. There were certainly ways to avoid the Queen's wrath without leaving the Casino altogether. You didn't speak up, especially if you were a woman. You became quietly necessary. You gained the favor of the King, or a Trump, or the Club Suits. She had done as much.

She thought some more. You would live longer if you didn't have children, longer still if you were single, longest of all if you couldn't be a wife and mother in the first place, she reasoned. How many of the people she worked with were orphans? How many men did she work with who were single fathers? Hell, _she'd_ been more or less raised by a single father. She remembered what Fletcher had told her about women in the Spades. She thought about how quick the King was to tamp down on anything that would upset his wife.

Maybe the civilians were more right than she'd believed. The thought didn't sit very well in her stomach.

They were nearly back in the throne room before something else occurred to Jelly. "What happened to your father?"

"He killed himself," Hatter replied. Jelly stared at him. "He left me a shop, and a note asking me to do something good with it. So I have."

The fire had died down a bit, and Jelly took a look around as Hatter tried to coax it back up. She could see a lump on the bed just inside the derelict to the left of the fire, which was probably Jack. She would have to apologize later, then. She turned as she heard the sound of a stick cracking in the wood, and then let out a small scream as Charlie appeared directly in front of her and she reflexively kicked him in the shins.

The kick didn't seem to register, because Charlie's reaction to this was to squint, and place his pointer finger directly over her heart.

"Uh," she said, pulling the finger off of her. "Hi?"

"Are you really a Suit?" Charlie demanded.

"A Spade," Jelly clarified, "And yes, I have been my whole adult life."

"You don't look like a Spade," Charlie said, eyeing her suspiciously.

"I'm out of uniform," Jelly replied, shifting so that she had Hatter at her back rather than the forest.

"That's not what I meant," Charlie said. "You aren't sharp enough."

"Excuse me?" Jelly said.

Charlie weaved back and forth, still squinting at her. "You're at all the wrong angles for a Spade."

Jelly shot a look over her shoulder back at Hatter, who shrugged.

"Uh," Jelly said, turning back to Charlie, who moved forwards a few steps and began to feel at the air around her body. "I'm not a Spade any more. Maybe that's the problem?"

"No, it's not," Charlie said decisively. "You wouldn't be nearly this poufy if that were the case."

"Poufy?" She'd been called a lot of things in her time. Poufy was not one of them.

"Yes. You're puffier than a midsummer's raincloud, and twice as lightning-y." He stopped waving his hands around and looked her directly in the eye. "Would you permit me to do a toenail reading?"

"No, thanks," Jelly said, hoping she didn't look as weirded out as she felt. "I'll pass."

Charlie's face fell, but he shuffled away without protest. "This is all wrong. You're too poufy to be a Spade. He's too stringy to be a Heart." He wheeled suddenly on Hatter, who had been busy smirking and thrust a finger into his face. "And I don't know what you are beneath all that rabble, but _I don't like it_."

"Fair enough," Hatter replied. "I have no idea what you are either."

"I'm a Knight!" Charlie reminded him, and brought his fist down on the top of Hatter's head. Hatter yelped, and whisked his hat off his head. Charlie wandered off to the where there was a hammock strung between both trees, muttering something unflattering about the younger man's tailor.

Jelly went over to stand next to Hatter, the better to stare at the old man as he arranged himself on the hammock, and snuggled up close to a teddy bear.

"So," Hatter said, a bit too cheerfully, as he turned to face her. "I'll take the first watch-"

"There's no need for that!" Charlie yelled, not even opening his eyes. "I have an early warning system all set up! Just be ready to run if the raven caws!"

Hatter turned and stared at him. "Is that a metaphor or-"

"No," Charlie said derisively. "It's the signal for the perimeter breach, you huggermugger."

"What did he just call me?" Hatter asked her.

"A huggermugger," Jelly told him, before adding, deadpan. "I can't believe it. You accost people in alleyways for hugs. You monster."

Hatter ignored her, and continued to stare at the Knight. "I'm tempted to go over there and shake him until he makes sense."

"I don't think it works like that," Jelly told him.

Charlie snored, and Hatter visibly tore himself away from whatever line of thought he'd been following. "So, as I was saying, I'll take the first watch-"

"Oh, there's no need for that," Jelly interrupted. "I had a nap today, I'll take it."

They looked at each other for a moment before Hatter said "First one to fall asleep makes breakfast?"

"Works for me," Jelly agreed.

They talked about inconsequential things, gossip about their mutual acquaintances and the like, as they sat by the fire. It got progressively colder as the night wore on, and it wasn't long before Jelly had buttoned up her jacket, popped the collar, dug her numb fingers deep into her pockets and was still shivering.

"You could come and sit by me?" Hatter suggested, watching her lean towards the flames.

"Is it warmer over there?" she asked.

"Of course it is," Hatter said. "I'll have you know I'm an excellent source of heat."

To prove his point, he moved beside her, sweeping his arm and a good portion of his jacket around her back as he sat down.

"Well, you certainly have excellent taste in jackets," Jelly admitted.

"Well, you knew that already," he pointed out.

Jelly hummed, and tried to rub the feeling back into her fingers.

Jelly woke up some time later, still tucked under Hatter's arm and leaning back against the log that had served as their bench last night. Dawn had broken and Hatter's beard was tickling her ear; for a moment, Jelly thought it was that which had woke her up. Then she heard the sound of a stick snapping, and realized that that wasn't it at all.

"Hatter," she hissed. "Hatter!"

Hatter jerked awake; Jelly pressed a finger to his lips and stood as quietly as she could.

"What it- what is it?" Hatter whispered sleepily, as he got to his feet and her eyes darted about.

"I don't-" Jelly began, before she realized what was wrong: Jack was gone.

"Fuck a duck!" she yelled, stalking towards his empty bed. Charlie tumbled out of his hammock with a surprised shout.

"Okay," Hatter said, straightening his hat and coming up behind her as she looked out from the bedside. "Is he going home, or-"

"No, he'll head for the city," Jelly said, looking out. A metallic glint caught her eye, and recalling Jack's wristwatch, she went after it.

Jack was trying to move discreetly rather than swiftly, and was still unsure of his footing; Jelly had years of experience chasing deviants through a not-always-level city. It wasn't long before she caught sight of him fully.

"Jack!" she yelled.

Jack audibly smacked his palm to his face, before dashing off of the path.

"Oh no you don't," Jelly growled, and took off after him.

Jack was leaning against a tree when she caught up with him, as though to say _I'm letting you catch me_.

Jelly glared at him, unimpressed. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm going to the city," he replied. "As you might imagine, after years of escaping to there, I have a few friends I can stay with."

"And you're so sure that these are friends your parents know nothing about?" Jelly asked.

"Are they?" Jack asked back. "You're the one held responsible for breaches in city security. You're the one who catches me and brings me back every time I escape. You tell me."

She couldn't help but get the impression that Jack was still a little sore from the night before. "Look, Jack," she began.

Jack raised an eyebrow, waiting.

"Okay, so you knew Gryphon," she said, pushing her apology to the side in favor of perhaps getting somewhere useful today. "Who else in the Resistance do you know?"

"Caterpillar," Jack replied, pushing away from the tree and heading back towards the path.

"What?" Jelly cried. "Are you serious?"

"He recruited me into the Resistance, he helped me look for a cure for Grace, he got me through the Looking Glass," Jack yelled back. "Yes, I'm serious."

"Who are we talking about now?" Hatter asked as he walked up from the path.

Jack went back into stiff mode, and didn't reply.

So Jelly did for him. "He knows Caterpillar."

"What?" Hatter said, indignant. "Why didn't you tell us that yesterday?"

"That's what I want to know!" Jelly said.

Before Jack could explain himself, there was the distant sound of Charlie yelling.

"Oh, what now?" Hatter muttered, grabbing Jack by the arm and dragging him back up to the throne room, Jelly following close behind.

What now apparently consisted of a raven cawing the early warning in its cage as Charlie yelled out the names of different musical instruments.

"Drum!" he shouted, brandishing a frying pan. "Fife! Piccolo!"

"Charlie!" Jelly yelled, grabbing him by the shoulder, and then ducking as he nearly brained her. "Charlie! _Sir Charles_!"

Charlie stopped mid-swing and stared at her."Yes?"

"How far away is the perimeter?" she asked.

"Three stadia," he replied.

"Okay," Jelly said. "We have time then; they're going to be on foot. Can we borrow your horses?"

"Yes," Charlie said softly. Then, much more loudly, "Yes! To the horses!"

He ran off, and the three of them followed him.

There were enough horses for each of them, and more, which she supposed was only right. Whichever of the Knight's warhorses survived would have had one hundred and fifty years to breed in, after all.

"Okay," Jelly said. "Here's the plan."

"We have a plan?" Hatter asked.

"I'm making one up right now," she told.

"Okay, continue," he replied.

"Hopefully, we'll be able to avoid the posse altogether," Jelly did continue. "Equally hopefully, it'll rain mince pies and lemonade this afternoon. We can buy ourselves some time by sticking along this ridge. The trees will provide us with some cover, and the elevation will give us a vantage point. When March spots us, we'll know. Then, I'll break cover. I shot his ear off, I'm pretty sure he's angry at me; that means he'll follow me. The three of you fall back into the forest and double back towards the Casino a bit. If I make it, we'll meet up by the hedges. If not, take the Stone to Caterpillar."

"That's a terrible plan," Jack opined, buckling his saddle onto his mare.

"I don't like it either," Hatter added.

"Okay," Jelly said. "What's wrong with it?"

"The consequences of being captured are greater for you than they are for anyone else here," Jack said.

"Uh, Jack?" Jelly replied, pretty sure she should be offended. "There are two people here who belong to an army, and the one who isn't me is old enough to remember your grandmother's reign. I have the greatest chance of fighting them off, and come to it, the greatest chance of resisting an interrogation."

"Bravo," Jack shot back, stepping up into his saddle. "Well done, you are correct. But there's something you're forgetting."

"What?" Jelly asked, annoyed.

"The Stone has been away from the Looking Glass for long enough that they'll have had to have shut it down. That means that there are no more Oysters coming into Wonderland. As much as my mother would dearly love to see your head roll, my father's far too practical to allow it. He's going to ensure that every Oyster is drained dry, including you."

Jelly froze in the act of mounting her horse, surprised less by the words and more by the way he said them, like it wasn't a terrible secret and there weren't people around to hear it.

"What?" Hatter yelled, loud enough to spook his horse a little.

"I knew it!" Charlie crowed. "I knew you weren't a Spade! Aha ha!"

There were many ways Jelly could respond to this. She could deny it. She could call Jack out on what was obviously an immature attempt at revenge for her remarks last night. She could pull out her gun and shoot him in the face. But, as tempting as those ideas were, there was only one good way to respond.

"Jack," Jelly said, slipping into her saddle so that they were at more or less eye level. "Think about it for a moment. Is my being drained really worse than Charlie being paraded around the Casino as a trophy, or Hatter being tortured, or your own parents killing you? Is it worse than the Crown getting the Stone of Wonderland? My feelings and I aren't on speaking terms anyway!"

"But you're an Oyster?" Hatter asked.

"Only from the minute I was born," Jelly replied.

Hatter looked like there was more he wanted to say, so Jelly cut him off. "And we need to leave quickly, so unless one of you has a better idea why don't we stick with my plan?"

"I could drive them away with my skills in the Black Arts," Charlie offered, his tone growing more theatrical as the sentence reached its end.

"We'll hold that idea in reserve," Jelly replied. "Let's go."

They made their way through the Forest of Wabe in silence, Charlie's inclination to sing having been unanimously vetoed by everyone else. They skirted the edge of the cliff face, keeping watch over the valley below with keen eyes. They were nearly in the Fungiferous Foothills before Jelly caught sight of a Spade.

"They're here," she said. There was a flash of white, and March's bunny face turned up towards them. They'd been spotted. "And they know we are too."

Charlie groaned.

Jelly thought. The posse was Darrel, March, and a set of twelve Spades. She had twenty nine bullets, three knives, and, for the moment, the high ground with the sun rising behind her, and a horse. She didn't like those odds, but they were workable.

"This is the part where you slip away," she reminded the men. They ignored her.

"By my psychic to the mysterious sinews that bind mankind to the out realm," Charlie moaned, touching his fingertips to his temples and closing his eyes. "Galadoon De Booshe!"

"Charlie," Jelly said.

Charlie opened his eyes a sliver. "Hm?"

"Get the hell out of here. All of you," Jelly said. "The Stone needs to get to Caterpillar. More importantly, they can't get a hold of it."

At that, Jack urged his mare around and deeper into the Wabe, followed reluctantly by Charlie.

"Do me a favor? Don't forget to ask about my father," she said pointedly. Hatter nodded, and followed the other men.

She watched as the foliage closed around them before urging her mount into motion. She steered her horse back where the slope had been gentler; they would climb there. Well, the Suits would climb there; it wouldn't surprise her to learn that March was planning on leaping up out of the valley onto her horse. She clutched at the reigns, and waited on the cusp of the slope for the Suits to come into view. Once she was sure that they knew where she was, she take off, and they'd follow.

Kill or be killed situations were surprisingly uncommon in the City. The sort of people who would rather be killed than taken in to face the executioner's axe were few in number and, for the most part, as inclined towards suicide as they were to going out in a blaze of glory. When she had climbed the ranks, she'd encouraged those under her command to take prisoners, if only so that they could fill the spaces in the executioner's docket that might otherwise be occupied with their own numbers. There had been times when it was unavoidable, and during the food riots things had almost escalated to open civil war, but even then, the Spades worked under a strategy of having the numerical advantage whenever possible, and they _always_ had body armor, the best weapons, medical assistance on standby and three square meals a day. She was used to having her opponents at a disadvantage. She was used to being able to force them to surrender. She was used to have at least Othello at her back, but more often a set, or a hand, or a play, if not the entire deck.

That wasn't going to happen here. She was outnumbered. She was outgunned. She was a traitor. And she didn't even know if she'd managed to accomplish anything.

She didn't have to wait very long. The first Suit- and she forced herself not to identify them- was in her sights before her muscles had time to begin to cramp. She was just about the kick her horse into action when he fired off a shot. The sound of the gun going off panicked her horse, which reared back unexpectedly, throwing her to the forest ground. Pain flare anew through her wounded arm and she was momentarily bereft of breath. She took it back quickly though, and snatched the gun up from the ground.

Thankfully, the Suits kept aiming for the horse after it bolted, rather than her, and she managed to make two clean kills in three shots before they realized that they'd been shooting in the wrong direction. Jelly felt their return fire thud into the tree she'd taken cover behind, before popping off three shots of her own. None of them hit anything that was after her, as far as she could tell, but that hadn't been the point. As they took cover she fled deeper into the Wabe, running until she found a hollow tree in which to hide.

Hurriedly, she reholstered her gun in the small of her back, and took out the one from her shoulder holster, which had more bullets in it. After a moment's thought, she placed it back inside, and pulled the knife out of her right pocket. She was outnumbered, but for the moment, no one knew exactly where she was. They would spread out and search for her. The less noise she made, the easier it would be to evade them, and pick them off. The EPs would let Darrel know which of his men had died, and with that information, direct them towards her position anyway: that would lend itself well enough to her purpose. There was no need to be stupid about this.

Before long came the sound of footsteps, crunching against the leaves and mulch that coated the forest floor. They belonged to a pair of Spades, Jelly guessed. She clutched her knife and waited; the pair paused not too far from her position, checking the shrubbery across the path. As she watched, one of them turned from keeping watch on the forest to confirm something for his partner, leaving both of their backs exposed.

She leaped at them from behind, bringing her left foot down on one Spade's instep as her right hand smashed into the back of his head. The other Spade brought his gun up to bear; she grabbed his arm with her free left hand and forced his aim down and away, at the prone Suit's body rather than hers. Then she brought her knife up and slashed it across his throat. Blood gushed from the wounds, coating her hand; his body shook in his death throes, causing him to fire his gun before falling to the ground. The bullet went in through his partner's neck, putting an end to his struggle to get back onto his feet.

Jelly threw herself behind a nearby tree as another pair of Spades, drawn by the fire, rushed through the forest. She switched dropped the knife back into her pocket and withdrew her gun. The pair drove for cover when they saw the bodies, but one wasn't quite quick enough to avoid her opening shot. His body flopped into the bushes, but a chunk of his head spilled out onto the path. His partner shot at her, and she pressed herself more fully behind the tree for a moment, before darting out to return it. They exchanged fire for a few moments, until her gun jammed. She swore, dodging fully behind the tree again. The Spade clipped the side of the tree trunk with his next shot, sending splinters flying through the air, several of which embedded themselves in the side of her face, just narrowly missing her eye. She yelled in pain, and heard the Spade ease out of his cover when she failed to return fire.

She had two thoughts, as she eased the gun out from behind her back. The first was _fuck that hurts_. The second was _that guy must think his shot hit me, rather than the tree_.

Then she whirled around the tree and shot at the Spade. He bellowed in pain, and Jelly shot again, this time making sure the bullet hit his head, not his chest.

She listened. Nobody seemed to be coming, so she picked up the guns from the fallen Suits, taking one to replace her jammed weapon, and collecting the other's cartridges. Then she wiped her knife and hands down on the pants legs of one of the Spades as best she could. Her arm still hurt and the side of her face was throbbing, but they were debilitating injuries. She had thirty-eight bullets and three knives against six Spades, Darrel, and Mad March. She might just live after all. Though, the fact that no one had come to investigate the prolonged exchange of gunfire by now was worrying her just a little.

She moved the way the last pair of Spades had come, listening for any sound of approaching Suits and trying to keep her own tread as light as possible. Then suddenly, there was the sound of shots being exchanged.

A portion of her was unsurprised to find Hatter, on foot and being shot at by a pair of Spades. Most of her was too busy being furious with him to be unsurprised. Then Hatter went flying back as one of them shot him in the chest.

Jelly stepped out from behind her tree and shot them both, one through the head, the other through the neck. Then she slid down the small hill that separated her from their bodies, and went to get Hatter.

He'd already picked himself up and set his hat to rights when she came into full sight of him.

"What happened to you?" he asked, as he took in her appearance. "You were on your own for what-"

"My plan happened," Jelly hissed. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm making sure you see your father again," Hatter replied.

Jelly stared at him for a moment. "Okay," she said finally. "How many did you incapacitate?"

"It doesn't matter," Hatter replied.

"Hatter-"

"No, you're not listening," Hatter said. "It doesn't matter. They've already called for back-up. Do you know how many Suits can fit into a Scarab?"

"Two hands worth," Jelly replied with a groan.

"Well, yes of course you do," Hatter muttered. "As far as I can tell, the plan was to have the posse drive us towards them." He glanced back to where the bodies were. "But if they're all dead, they're going to abandon that plan pretty quick."

"They aren't all dead," Jelly told him. "There are still at least four Spades, Darrel, and March: though, if I were Darrel that would be enough casualties to make me scrap the plan. What about Charlie and Jack?"

"Riding back to the City of the Knights at breakneck speed when I last saw them," Hatter said. "The Suits will be looking for two men and a woman, not just two men, and certainly not a Knight. With a little luck they'll be passed over."

"By what?" Jelly asked. As though in answer, there was the unmistakable whirr of flamingos flying overheard. "Oh, motherfucker…"

"Yeah," Hatter said, pressing them both flat against the tree. They waited, barely breathing, until the sound of airborne Suits faded.

"Do they have a plan after that?" she asked. "The City of the Knights is probably big enough to hide in, but it's also big enough that the Suits will find it sooner or later."

"If we're not back by nightfall, they're going to head for the boat," Hatter said. "Come on."

"The boat that March will have found and Darrel will have told his back-up about?" Jelly asked as she followed him along the path. It was narrow enough to provide ample cover to hide behind, while being clear enough not to trip them up.

"There's a distinct lack of other options here, you know. The way between the Casino and here is blocked, and the way between the city and here is a whole lot of open ground we could very easily be spotted on," Hatter replied. "Besides, the boat's docked right near a hot-spot for smugglers. As soon as word gets around to Tortoise's lot, they'll come kick them out. I wouldn't be surprised if it wasn't happening already."

"What makes you say that?" Jelly asked.

"Because I know the food smuggling business like I know the Tea business," Hatter told her. "I know what the demand is and I know what people can get out of their government rations and what's grown in the city. And let me tell you, there is one hell of a gap. Shipments will have been intercepted, and no competent Resistance leader- which Tortoise seems to be- is going to let their source of political sway wane. With a little luck, we could slip out in the confusion."

"I try not to rely on luck too much," Jelly said. "It always seems to duck out at the worse possible moment."

"Well, do you have a better idea?" Hatter asked.

She opened her mouth to respond, but heard the sound of an approaching pair. She wondered, distantly, if they knew they were being that loud as she gestured for Hatter to hide and crouched behind a bush.

A few moments later the pair blundered by, visibly steeped on one of the less relaxing Teas. Jelly waited for them to stagger by- the game had changed now, and the less attention she drew to herself, the better.

Naturally, that was the moment in which she lost her footing, slid, and crunched into the shrubbery. No amount of Lust, or Passion, or Desire was going to obscure the noise, and the pair doubled back to investigate.

They were nearly upon her when there was a whistle, and Hatter punched one of them in the face. Jelly rose, bringing the butt of her pistol up into the back of the other's skull. The one Hatter had taken care of flopped back and was still; hers collapsed forwards and attempted to rise until she gave him a sharp kick in the head.

"What's the deal with your right arm?" she asked, bending to retrieve their weapons.

"It's my right arm," Hatter replied, holding out his hand, his eyes not on her but on the forest. She handed over one of the fallen Spade's guns, and he checked the cartridge and the safety before depositing it in his breast pocket.

"Yeah," Jelly drawled. "But you seem to be able to hit harder with it than most people." She ejected the other gun's cartridge, and tossed the gun itself into a nearby hummock. Assuming they found it at all when they regained consciousness, it would need a thorough cleaning before it worked again. She held out the cartridge. "Free bullets?"

"Thank you," Hatter said, taking them and ignoring her earlier comment. The headed off again, forgoing talking in favor of listening for the approach of more Suits.

There were many more Suits: the pairs came closer and closer together and thrice they heard flamingos overhead, but they managed to avoid most of the Spades, incapacitate the ones they couldn't, and if the flyers spotted them, there was no indication of it. Eventually, the patrols thinned, and she began to shift her focus, bit by bit, off of immediate survival and onto what they were going to do when they caught up with Charlie and Jack. Providing they did catch up with them; the alternative was that they'd been captured, and she wasn't really prepared to face that possibility. She wasn't a very big fan of the whole 'escape in the merely probable confusion of a firefight between the Resistance and whatever Spades were guarding their drop point': she'd played with more wildly fluxuating odds, yes, but generally with some way of seeing where they were just before she acted, and with a back-up plan firmly in place.

Before she could come with one, however, there came the sound of marching feet; there was only one set, but at the pace it went, there was no mistaking who it was.

She turned to Hatter, who jerked his head towards a tree with low-laying branches. She swung herself up into it, and had climbed several cubits up before she realized that Hatter wasn't following.

"Hatter!" she hissed, trying to project her voice and not have it carry at the same time. The marching grew closer as Hatter turned around and pointed skywards. _Climb._

Jelly gesticulated wildly with one arm, the other clutching tightly to the branch she was seated on. She forced herself not to grimace as the way her face tried to contort drove the splinters deeper into her skin. _What the hell are you doing?_

Hatter pointed up again, and then hurried away, moving around the edge of a medium-sized hill and out of sight. Jelly had several strongly-worded things to say about this development, but no way of communicating them, because at that moment March came into view.

He stomped his way up to the tree; Jelly inched her free hand to the gun under her arm, wondering if she'd left any of the shadows he tracked by, or if he'd spotted her already. He was almost directly below her; she could see the top of his head, where the ear she'd shot off had left some wiring and metal exposed. Then March's head jerked, suddenly, unnaturally, tilting his face in the direction Hatter had just gone.

"Hatter," he sing-sang in a mechanized voice. "Come out, come out wherever you are."

He pounded towards the edge of the hill, and then stopped abruptly. "You know I'm better at hide and seek than you are," he said, moving his head from left to right. "Why are you dragging this out?"

Jelly wrapped her fingers around the handle of her gun, and tried to ease it out of its holster as quietly as she could, painfully aware of the dried blood on her hand itching and flaking off as she did so. She wasn't quite sure if she believed that he didn't notice her, but if he was going to be stupid enough to give her a shot at him, she was going to take it.

March's head jerked, suddenly, to a cluster of bushes several cubits away from the hill. "You're only making this worse for yourself, Hatter," he continued, striding towards them. "I could make this quick. But you know how I get when I'm angry."

There was the sound of gunfire then. March jerked his entire body in that direction, and appeared to consider it for a moment before heading off. Jelly wondered for a moment if she should try for the shot, no matter how awkward the angle, but she didn't want to risk giving their position away if the assassin was leaving anyway, and very shortly he disappeared out of sight.

She stayed in place for a moment, then reholstered her weapon, and eased her way down. Hatter was standing by the tree trunk when she touched the ground, making it easier for her to spin around and say (quietly, of course) "What the fuck was that?"

"You're very foul-mouthed today, you know," Hatter observed, heading back off in the direction of the City of the Knights as though they'd merely dodged another patrol. Thankfully, the firefight seemed to be happening in the other direction. She'd be worried, but neither Jack nor Charlie had a gun to return fire with, so it didn't seem worth the energy.

"I haven't had breakfast," Jelly muttered, before finding that once they'd started the words were impossible to stop. "We're being followed by two hands worth of my co-workers. I've had to kill eight of them so far. There's only a limited amount of time to get back to Charlie and Jack before they attempt something suicidally stupid. My father is either in the process of being brainwashed or held on collateral for me managing to get Jack to safety. And you're trying very hard to distance yourself from March, but I've got to tell you, Hatter, it's not your best work. So I repeat: what the fuck was that?"

Hatter glared at her. "Fine, I know Mad March. Knew. And Jack is chummy with Caterpillar and you're a bloody Oyster. We're just having that sort of day." He moved past her, hurrying ahead.

"Knew how?" Jelly hissed as she caught up with him.

"I knew him," Hatter replied. "I might go as far as to say I knew him before he went mad, but then again he tried to electrocute me when I was nine, so I might not."

The hum of a flamingo filled the woods over the sound of distant gunfire, and they both dove for the relative cover of a nearby tree.

"Does this have anything to do with your right arm?" Jelly whispered on a whim.

"He cut the original one off," Hatter said. The words weren't matter of fact, like they'd been when he'd told her about his father. They were blunt, meant to scare her off. "So I had it replaced with something more durable."

The flamingo had passed, so Jelly unpeeled herself from the tree and started up again. "And, what? You survived once, so baiting him is good idea?"

"Would you rather his focus was on you? Correct me if I'm wrong, but you don't even have that much," Hatter retorted.

"I've known him for thirteen years and he hasn't tried to kill me yet."

"I'm glad to hear it. But it's not exactly a mark in your favor."

"And surviving once isn't an excuse to be that reckless."

"Have you looked in the mirror lately?" Hatter asked. "I'm not the one with half a tree in my face."

"I'm a Spade," she said, exasperated. Hatter shot her a disbelieving look, so she amended "I was a Spade. I've been a Spade my whole life. This is normal for me. I know what I'm doing."

"So do I," Hatter told her. "I might go out of the way to avoid this sort of thing, but I'm Resistance. Sooner or later I was going to dance too close to the fire, and it was going to come down to this. Time's finally caught up with me, and I'm not going to run."

For a moment, it seemed they were at an impasse; then Hatter smirked, and said "Though, I'd like you to know that I'm deeply touched by your fretting."

"I'm not fretting," Jelly said with a roll of her eyes, relieved to be given the chance to retreat behind their normal banter. "I'm trying to come up with a good reason not to shoot you."

"Well, I could point out that it sounds like misplaced fretting, but I'm not," Hatter said, holding out a hand to help her down a somewhat-steep slope. "That's a reason."

"I don't think that counts," Jelly replied. "Actually, as this is my book I'm keeping here, I'm going to go with that definitely doesn't count."

"Well then," Hatter said. "What about my outrageous sense of humor? Or my cutting wit? There's also my overwhelming charm, and my devilishly handsome good looks."

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him why he left out his sense of humility, but instead she went with "You are cute, I'll give you that much."

Hatter smiled, before seeming to catch himself and affecting an insulted tone. "Cute? _Cute_? Do you think that little of me?"

Jelly suppressed the urge to smirk. "Of course not. I could never think you little."

"You've walked into so many terrible jokes I don't know which one to say first," Hatter said.

"You could try list-"

There was the sound of a stick breaking underfoot. Jelly and Hatter went for the bushes, but they suddenly rustled, revealing a young man with a pistol. Before Jelly could try disarming him, the path came alive. They were trapped.

"Are you Hatter and Jellybean?" asked one of the gunmen.

"Ah, no," Hatter told them, holding up his arms in surrender. "Robinson and Duckworth. I'm Robinson, she's Duckworth." Jelly nodded once, mimicking his posture for the moment. "We're on our honeymoon. It got a bit trampled by Suits. If you could point us in the direction of the lake-"

"It's them," said a woman's voice. "Well, it's him, at least."

"Oh," Hatter said, dropping his hands quickly. "Hi, Sylvie."

Jelly lowered her hands and gave him a questioning look.

"I'm Bruno's sister," Sylvie said. "I'm also in charge of the farmers' block while Tortoise is getting up to shenanigans in the city. We've got your friends; they're safe. Well give you fresh horses, and then you can be on your way while we're keeping the Suits busy."

"Thank you," Jelly said.

"Now we're even," Sylvie replied.

The gunmen melted away into the trees, far more stealthy than the Suits had been to date. Benefits of being on their own territory, Jelly figured, as Sylvie turned with the obvious intention to have them follow her.

"Tortoise is in the city, you say?" Hatter asked.

"Yes," Sylvie said. "She got news that Carpenter defected, and decided that a meeting was in store."

Jelly slipped, and fell face first into a tree before Hatter could catch her.

"Ow!" she yelled, as the bark scraped against the splinters.

"You should really have that looked at," Sylvie commented, before stepping into a fern and disappearing from view.

Hatter leaned over the fern. "Huh," he said, bracing his arm against a nearby rock before dropping himself into the hole the fern had concealed. Jelly listened to the thump that signified his safe landing. It was almost immediate: she gave him a few moments before following.

Her knees bent as she landed on the dirt floor. Hatter helped her straighten and they made their way down the narrow tunnel, which was lit with the glow of phosphorescent mushrooms which grew in the walls.

"What is this place?" she asked.

"I'm not sure," Hatter replied. "I know Sylvie because I staked out one of the drop points. Tortoise's group generally use little dug-outs, but they're nothing this-" he cut himself off as the tunnel broadened to reveal a causeway across a large pit. Looking down, Jelly could see a space that rivaled the Great Library in terms of size and population, but instead of books, there was food. Food everywhere: ears of corn, barrels of apples, boxes of mangoes, bushels of broccoli, piles of cabbages. She had never seen so much food in one place in her life, and as a trainee she'd had to patrol the inventories in the Casino.

"But nothing this elaborate," Hatter finished. "Wow."

"Yeah," Jelly agreed.

"Harbingers!"

Charlie raced towards them, and caught them both in a hug. Jelly patted him on the back, until he drew the hug out past the point of awkwardness.

"Okay, that's enough," she muttered.

"We were just about to go back up and look for you," Charlie said happily. His face fell, though, when he got a good look at hers. "Oh my."

"Do you know where I could wash up?" Jelly asked.

"There's a water closet this way," Jack replied from behind the Knight. He was looking slightly overwhelmed, probably from being alone with Charlie for however long, but otherwise okay.

"Hold on a moment, I'll be right back," Charlie said, dashing away. She exchanged looks with Hatter, before turning back to Jack.

"I'd like to apologize for my behavior this morning," the prince said stiffly.

Jelly wondered for a moment if Charlie had spoken with him, before deciding that it didn't really matter. "I'm sorry for how I acted last night. Truce?"

"That would seem to be for the best," Jack agreed. "I'm not sure I want to know what your rejoinder would be otherwise."

"It would have involved punching out all your blood," Jelly informed him.

Jack shot an involuntary look at her right hand, which was still coated with blood and grime."The water closet's this way," he repeated, and took off down the ledgeway.

Charlie intercepted just outside the door. "Here!" he said, thrusting a sack into her hands.

"Uh, thank you?" Jelly said, opening it. A rubber ducky grinned out at her. She held it up and presented it to Charlie with a questioning air.

"It's bathing supplies," Charlie said scathingly, as though she should have known better. She probably would have, had anyone but him given her a sack outside a water closet.

"Thank you," she repeated, and went inside to clean up.

Charlie's sack did indeed contain a great many useful items. There was a bottle of mineral oil and a rough cloth she used to give her knife a better cleaning. There was a small mirror and a pair of tweezers she used to remove the tree bits from her face. But what it was lacking was a way to get the blood out from under her fingernails.

She'd gotten it off her hand proper easily enough. But she could still feel it coagulated in her cuticles, and no amount of scrubbing, picking or rinsing was doing a good enough job. Maybe it was the water pressure. There was no faucet, just a trickle of water from a spring coming from the wall and splashing into the basin. Maybe it was the temperature. It was a very cold spring, and hot water was better for this sort of thing, wasn't it? But she couldn't get the blood out and it was driving her-

_Okay Jelly, calm down_, she told herself sternly. _You nearly ripped your own fingernails off the last time you did this. There's nothing there. You know there's nothing there._

It felt like there was. Eight people in one day was a lot, even for a Spade.

There was a knock on the door. "Are you okay?" Hatter called.

Jelly was trying to muster up the effort for a convincing yes when the door opened.

"Don't ask me that," she said, as Hatter walked in. "Ask me anything else, but don't ask me that."

"Okay," Hatter said, then, after a beat. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah," Jelly said, flicking her now dry knife back into her pocket and collecting Charlie's things back in his sack. Leaving now before she had a chance to show her fingernail issues in front of Hatter would probably be a good idea.

"Are you going to be okay for the ride?" Hatter asked.

"I'm fine," Jelly replied.

"Is your name really Jellybean?"

It was then she realized that she had inadvertently given him carte blanche. She pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache coming on.

"I'm just saying, that doesn't sound like an Oyster name," Hatter continued, with a peek into the toilet stall to ensure that they were alone.

"It's not the name my parents gave me, no. Well, not the one they gave me originally," Jelly closed the sack and went for the door. Hatter opened it for her. "What about you?" she asked.

"My parents named me Theophilus," he replied.

"And the mystery of why you're called Hatter is solved," she replied.

"There's nothing wrong with the name Theophilus," Hatter protested. "It just can't beat Hatter."

Jack and Charlie were nowhere to be seen, but Hatter appeared to know where to go, so Jelly fell into step, allowing him to steer their way. Hatter, for himself, seemed to have run out of questions.

"It's not exactly what you expected, huh?" Jelly asked.

"What's not?" Hatter replied, too quickly.

Jelly shot him an unamused look. "Please. I've read the propaganda. Hell, they keep coming to Dad to help write it."

Supposedly, Oysters didn't think like Wonderlanders did. Which might very well be true, her Dad was fond of pointing out, but that had a lot more to do with culture then it did with any biological or neurological differences between the two peoples, and it didn't even begin to cover the gap the Tea literature presented.

Well, his rant was a lot longer than that, but at this point she was pretty sure that was the gist of the matter.

"Well, it's not like I trust the propaganda," Hatter said, sounding a bit hurt. "And I've read your books, remember? They certainly don't fit with the party line. I guess I thought there would be more noticeable differences, that's all."

"Supposedly, most of the differences people know about are the result of the most blatantly artificial pseudoscience since the invention of phrenology," Jack interrupted. He was standing just inside a small tunnel entrance, and once he was sure he had their attention he began to walk down it.

"Oh God," Jelly said as she followed, recognizing her father's words and really not wanting to. "He doesn't actually say that in front of other people, does he?"

"Only when they give him permission to speak freely," Jack replied, levering himself up and out of a small hole in the ground very much like the one they had entered through.

"Really? In Court?" Jelly asked, as Hatter helped her follow suit.

"Well, it's not every time your father's in Court certainly," Jack said as Hatter clambered up. Jelly buried her face in the palm of her hand, as much from the embarrassment as the way the sudden sunlight was making her squint.

"Oh that's not so bad," Hatter assured her. "My mother used to go around asking people why ravens were like writing desks. It wasn't a pass code, it didn't have an answer, she just liked saying it."

Charlie clanked nearby, and Jelly forced her eyes to open and adjust to the light, focusing her attention on the darker of the two horses they had left. "Well, we should probably skip over the sort of things Jack's parents say."

"Definitely," Jack agreed. "Seeing as I haven't listened to them years."

"My Nan used to tell me that if I were the only eligible bachelor in the world, there wasn't a warthog or a wallflower that would polish my escutcheon, let alone a woman of good breeding," Charlie said.

"You win," Jelly said. "Here's your prize."

He looked excited for a moment, before he realized that she was handing him back his sack.

"Yes, well," Charlie said with a sniff. "Let's be off. We have a Stone to deliver!"

True to her word, Sylvie did keep the Suits off their back. The way into the City was clear and trouble free, and they had little trouble avoiding patrols as Jack took the lead, ring once more in its box and tucked inside his pocket. They climbed higher and higher, until they finally arrived at one of the least likely hot spots for Resistance activity.

"The Hospital of Dreams," Hatter said flatly. "Caterpillar's in the Hospital of Dreams."

"Yes," Jack replied. "What of it?"

Jelly smirked. "He's been pretending to be here in rehab while doing Resistance things."

"That's just bloody typical," Hatter said.

"Why would dreams need a hospital?" Charlie asked.

"Because they ended up in the wrong person," Jack replied walking up the steps. "Come on, we're nearly there."

The Hospital itself was a dark and dismal place; Jelly let Jack handle the creepy receptionist and her bugs and kept a look about for anything that might have been lurking in the shadows. It was how she spotted him before he spotted her; the dark velvet of her coat blended in with her surroundings, and he was still wearing his white lab gear.

"Dad!" Jelly yelled, running across the lobby to meet him.

"Oh, just follow the Carpenter," the receptionist snapped as they met in a hug, Dad's hands shifting when he inadvertently pressed one against her gun rather than her back.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine," he said, frowning as he pulled back and scrutinizing the bloody mess where the splinters had been. "They got me out right away. What happened to your face?"

"I had a disagreement with a tree," Jelly replied.

"The tree won," Hatter elaborated.

Carpenter raised an eyebrow at her.

"Hatter, this is my father," Jelly introduced. "Dad, this is Hatter. He's been helping me keep ahead of the- everything."

"Aren't you a Tea Seller?" Dad demanded. "I'm pretty sure I've seen you at the conventions."

"Yeah, technically," Hatter admitted. "Of course, it's the not-technical bits that are why I'm here."

"Is Caterpillar-" Jack began.

"He was smoking hookah in the middle of a rowboat in the pool last I saw him," Dad said.

"…really?" Hatter asked, as Jack took off in the direction of the stairs.

"I think it might be better not to ask," Dad said. "Jellybean, there's something you need to see."

"I'll just go take Charlie and catch up with Jack," Hatter said, walking over to where Charlie was squinting at the wall as though he thought it might suddenly attack.

"…Charlie?" Dad asked.

"It's definitely better not to ask," Jelly said. "What's going on?"

"I-" Dad began walking down the hallway. "I didn't know. If I'd known, I'd have taken you and run years ago. I always thought it wasn't worth the risk of contacting the Resistance when they were likely to be pretty angry at me."

"Yeah, I thought that for a while there too," Jelly said, choosing not to tell him why she'd decided that it was worth the risk after all.

"Well, apparently, they're desperate enough for information on Tea that we probably could have gotten away with it," Dad said. "Even if-"

He stopped outside a door marked NO ENTRANCE BUT ENTRANCED, and gave a small, bitter sort of laugh. "There's no good way to break this news, so I'm just going to say it: Carol's alive. Your mother's alive, and she's here."

"What?" Jelly asked as he pushed open the door to reveal a middle aged woman, with graying auburn hair and an anxious expression. "Mom?"

"Hello Jellybean," she said.


	6. Five of Cups

_**FIVE OF CUPS**_

_Upright__ - A need to re-order and re-evaluate priorities. Union and espousal. Dishonour that cannot be overcome, loss defeat. There is a need to curb futile belligerence and accept the inevitable. Worry and regret, broken engagements and emotional letdowns. Emotional or monetary legacies._

_Reversed__ - The overturning of a way of life. False starts. Worries which arrive both unexpectedly and from an unexpected source. Ill luck which leaves a feeling of being bereft. Worries and anxieties._

When Alice was twenty years old, she committed high treason for the first time.

To be fair, the past couple of years had been hard on her. For one thing, once you reached Ace rank, promotions tended to slow- not so for her; she was an Eight, and it had taken her only three years since entry into the Ace ranks to get there. She had the responsibility to make sure that both her hands- hand, the Suit division, not the limb- were coordinated, which was no easy task to manage, especially when the Nine you served under hated your spleen as much as Harlan did. Not to say that being an Ace didn't have privileges; it did, or else she never would have worked so hard at it. She got priority on the firing range, clearance to learn knife fighting and special forms of hand to hand combat that was considered too dangerous to teach the regular ranks. She got more face time with her superiors who didn't hate her, like Uthar and Claude, who had come around to her side of things when she'd started making inroads with the King.

And it wasn't like Wonderland on the whole was breezing along either. Food was something that was always a touchy subject. There was enough for the Suits, of course; they were always sure to have several months' worth of food in storage, as well as the royal gardens. The rest of the city wasn't doing so well; you needed a permit to live outside the city, and many who did manage to complete the screening process ended up running away to join the Resistance at the first opportunity. They'd had to suspend applications for a time, and then the Queen had demanded a crack-down on illegal farming communities, and suddenly their normal state of 'just shy of enough food' turned to 'not nearly enough food at all'. The city was full of starving desperate people, which understandably didn't lend itself to civility. Ironically, in hindsight it became evident that the Resistance had benefited from the losses the Queen's crackdown had inflicted upon them more than the Suits had. The city's sympathy was with them, now, and it wouldn't be long before spontaneous bouts of civil unrest turned to full-out civil war.

In the past week, Jelly had lost seven men under her command to rioting, three to the executioner, and shot fourteen civilians. It was such a waste, and she couldn't stomach the thought of continuing on as she had been when it was so obvious to her what could be done to prevent it.

This was what led her to commit treason.

It was done with the permission of the King, of course, which under a great many schools of thought would negate it as treason: that was certainly a good part of why Othello was helping her. None of these schools were established in the Queen's head, however, so they didn't count; and besides, the King would have disavowed any and all knowledge of her work if it had become public knowledge. But her chances of surviving were greatly improved with him knowing and telling her boss to give her an extra long leash while her plan was put into motion. Or rather, while she put the plan the Resistance man in holding cell 212 had told her about into motion, with some modifications to make it more palatable.

The problem was hunger; while she knew that the Queen was pushing her father to develop a Stuffed Tea, she also knew that he didn't think it could be done- not in any timely, efficient manner, anyway, no matter how many times he was called to Court to be threatened. So that meant they would have to solve it the old-fashioned way, with food. The King could (and did) authorize the silos in the city to operate like a soup kitchen, which stabilized the areas around the city's center, but it was a stop-gap measure at best. They needed more.

The first step was to get the King to call the Queen back to the city. She'd been looking for the illegal farming communities herself, and, as rumor had it, was greatly enjoying her ability to bomb, burn, and then observe her targets from a safe height. It was easy enough for him to plead a rapidly escalating domestic situation that needed her expert touch. Once she was back, his direct involvement was mostly limited to keeping her attention from being focused on the food problem, and Jelly went to see her new Resistance contact.

She assumed an identity for this. She dressed in the casual clothing of someone who lived in the city and might have a close family member as a member of the Suits; a brilliant cobalt greatcoat over soft lavender trousers and a violet pinstriped blouse, complete with a fashionable wide-brimmed hat and veil combination. She almost decided to speak in her passable Court accent, but decided at the last minute to Albune (not-exactly-Scottish, her father called it). If anyone noticed it slipping, then they would assume that she was covering up something more Wonderlandian than Long Island. Othello went with her; he introduced himself as Iago, and she called herself Deborah. The contact was called Humpty Dumpty, and she hoped for his sake that that was a codename he hadn't picked himself.

"We're not going to give you anything that will actively hurt those under our command," Jelly stipulated.

Humpty Dumpty looked quizzical, his long, pale face scrunching in upon itself.

"What she means is that we're giving you this information so you can avoid our patrols. If we find our groups being ambushed, we won't be in touch with you, we'll come after you," Othello clarified.

"Of course!" Humpty sniffed. "And in return, we expect you to actually steer clear of these locations for a while."

"That was the deal," Jelly said. "We just need to be sure that you know the consequences of breaking it."

They stared at each other for a moment, she and Humpty. Othello stood behind her, ready to back her up if things went wrongwards or the Resistance man trying to hide in the shadows made an unexpected move. Then they switched folders of intelligence and made their way out of each other's company.

It panned out, and after a few weeks the riots began to die down. So they met again. And again, until one night she sought out Humpty on her own.

Even though they didn't know who Jelly and Othello were, exactly- they probably thought she was a Diamond, or a Club, and Othello kept dropping hints that he might be a Lizard- they would find it suspicious if they _both_ showed signs of defecting. This part rode on her ability to act, at least as far as the King was concerned; she saw it more as a brief respite away from constantly watching herself around anyone who might report her behavior to the Crown. When safe zones and workable routes were established for the influx of food, the next step would be to make sure that food would keep moving through them, and her suggestion would have more weight if it looked like she was conflicted about her loyalties.

"Nobody can know I'm here," she told Humpty. "I want to help, but there are too many people I'm responsible for, and if they find out what I'm doing-"

"I'll keep it between the two of us," Humpty promised. "No one needs to know where the information came from."

Somehow, the Police Spades managed to 'lose' several of the packages of seeds the Eggmen had engineered to be higher yielding alternatives to the ones currently used by the Crown's farms. The panic they caused by disappearing sent the Queen flying into a rage. It was all Jelly could do to keep the Spades under her command from getting the axe, and she herself ended up in a holding cell twice. There was a scramble to replace the seeds, but the King managed to keep the Queen's focus on other things. It helped that Jack chose that moment to pull some truly spectacular stunts, so the Queen really was too busy trying to control her son to keep a close watch on what was going on with her seed production, which was good, because somehow or another packages just kept disappearing.

"Are you sure we're not dancing too close to the fire?" Othello asked her as they made their way to another intelligence swap meet.

"I started leaping over the fire ages ago," Jelly told him.

"That's not exactly helpful," he replied.

"Come on,_ Iago_," she said. "If we don't do something to take the pressure off, Wonderland will fall into civil war, and then there'll be fire everywhere."

"Cheery thought, _Desdemona_."

"Deborah," Jelly corrected him. "Don't screw that up in front of the Resistance."

"What the hell kind of name in Deborah, anyway?" Othello shot back.

_It's my middle one_. "I'm pretty sure it's an Oyster one, actually."

She was never quite sure if Othello knew whether or not she was an Oyster. He'd grown up in the city, and so didn't have a chance to run into her father back when he would still tell people that he didn't belong here and neither did his family. She'd gotten a shot that prevented the light that burned other free-range Oysters from marking her in the same way. Her accent was weird, but she was hardly the only one with one like it. If he knew, though, he didn't give any indication, and time passed without undue incident and without any remarks to the contrary being made. They passed along the information, she passed along the seeds, and Wonderland pulled itself back from the brink of starvation. It couldn't last, though.

The problem was, of course, that the seeds represented a shift in the balance of power. Without Tea to keep them sated, the people's loyalties would go to those who fed them. Finally, when they'd gone a good five days without so much as a loud protest, the King called the whole thing to a halt.

The Resistance knew her too well, ushering her inside the building with the most cursory of weapon's checks that missed the small-caliber gun hidden in the lining of the jacket. When Humpty joined her in his office, she had taken it out, and ditched the coat and hat in favor of being recognized as a Spade, as Jellybean.

"If you don't start leaving now, my hands will scoop you up," she told him.

She didn't have to warn him, she rationalized. It would be much safer for her to not. Othello would kill her if he knew what she was up to in here. But strangely enough, Humpty didn't appear to appreciate that.

Humpty lunged at her; she sidestepped him and knocked him out with the butt of her pistol before re-donning the civilian clothes and sounding the alarm for the benefit of the rest of them. She gave the Resistance a thousand count wait as she divested once more, before tapping out the order to storm the building.

It was a very successful crack down; in addition to Humpty Dumpty himself, they bagged fifty-seven men out of a suspected cell of seventy-five. This was a good thing, because the tracking devices the King had ordered deployed into the seed the Resistance had taken weren't working as advertised, some broadcasting only intermittently and some not broadcasting at all. Worse still, when one of the patrols did manage to get a fix, they found themselves on the wrong end of an ambush, and Claude was killed in the ensuing firefight.

Dad was called in to defend his invention's performance; he had several explanations for their failure to work as advertised, many of which would be difficult and expensive to prove. Jelly was worried, but unsurprised: Dad knew better than to fight the Crown when it came to Tea, but when he had the opportunity to muck up anything else without getting caught, he'd take it. The problem was that this was as important as Tea brewing, and for all that he seemed to have managed to not overstep his bounds this time, he'd trodden on them very hard.

She held back when the Queen left, her entourage trailing behind her and the rest of the Court using the opportunity to escape. She didn't want the King to focus on what her father was capable of, and discussing ways to prevent the Resistance from infiltrating the city further presented itself as a useful distraction. And there was the matter of repairing the damage to their public image. And how to keep such a near thing from happening again. And, as the King had eventually pointed out, the matter of succession amongst the Police Spades.

With Claude dead, Nine Harlan should have ascended to the rank of Ten. Instead, he was shuffled sideways to become the new Agent White when the previous holder of that title unexpectedly retired. The other Nine, Uthar, was passed over, but considering how slow his career path was it was hardly surprising.

So Jellybean became the Ten of Spades, promoting Othello up a rank to be her top Nine as her first act. And as long as it didn't place her father in any danger, there she would stay.

Three years later, Jelly stared at her mother in shock. "Wait, what?"

Mom took a tentative step forwards. "Jellybean…"

"Back up a moment here," Jelly protested, not aware that she was doing just that until Dad reached out and stopped her. She took a deep breath. _Pull it together, Jelly. It's not like this is bad news._

She wasn't entirely sure what this was, but her mother was alive, so it couldn't be _bad_.

"Okay," she said. "I've been asking the wrong question. How? How are you alive?"

"Somehow or another the Resistance heard about my work with the Tea addicts," Mom began. "When the Suits put me in the cell, the Resistance was waiting. I wasn't in there for more than five minutes before they came to me with an offer: my freedom in exchange for my information on how to treat Tea addiction."

Jelly nodded. "Okay. That makes sense, I guess?"

"They lied about executing her," Dad cut in. "The Crown wouldn't have wanted to lose face, and anyway…"

"It was supposed to keep you in line," Jelly finished for him, as gently as she could.

Dad pressed his mouth in a thin, straight line and nodded once, curtly. Jelly turned back to her mother. "So, have you been here the whole time?"

"No," Mom replied. "We had a very long talk about combating addiction and theories behind psychological dependency and methods for treating physical dependency, and then they sent be to a safe house in the country."

"So you were in the country." Mom nodded. "You were hiding in the country for eleven years." Mom stopped nodding and shook her head.

"Not exactly," she replied. "I couldn't-"

"Jellybean!" Charlie yelled as he clamored down the stairs at the end of the corridor.

"Uh," Mom said.

"Mom, this is Sir Charles," Jelly introduced as Charlie made his way towards him. "And Charlie! These are my parents."

"Oh, yes, of course: they're even more poufy than you!" Charlie's face broke into a wide grin. "Delighted to meet you both." He swept into a low bow, and got stuck halfway when he tried to straighten.

"Quickly, quickly, sacroiliac," he muttered, and Jelly helped him stand up straight again. "Good-O. Caterpillar would like to see everyone up on the roof, by the by."

He wandered back the way he'd come. Mom turned to her, and said in a whisper.

"Sir Charles?"

"The last of the White Knights," Jelly confirmed. "He's been hiding out in the Forest of Wabe for the past hundred and fifty years."

Mom stared at her.

"Surprise?" Jelly offered.

"You ragamuffin!" Charlie bellowed from the stairs. "Are you coming or not?"

"You could try asking them politely!" Hatter yelled from the top of the stairs.

Charlie seemed to think about it. The three of them were nearly at the bottom of the stairs when he finally said "If you would be so kind as to ascend?"

"…thanks, Charlie," Jelly replied. The knight beamed, and clanked back up the stairs, oblivious to the looks her parents were shooting each other.

She'd never been inside the Hospital of Dreams proper. She'd escorted some of her Suits here, when they became too steeped to perform properly, but she'd never been close enough to any of them to visit. She'd heard the rumors, though, about what the treatments for being steeped in Tea could be like, and her imagination ran wild now that they were accompanied by a soundtrack and occasional glimpses as they made their way up.

The Hospital of Dreams was short on windows, and the sunlight was abundant on the roof. Jelly squinted against the light, just barely able to make out Jack's figure, standing next to another man that must be Caterpillar. She almost missed Hatter entirely until he was right next to her.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, fine," Jelly said automatically. "Why?"

"Well, you look like you've seen a ghost."

Jelly nearly laughed, but didn't, with the thought that if she started now she might have another breakdown. "Funny you mention that." She turned around to make sure she had her mother's attention. "Mom? This is Hatter. He's my contact with the Resistance." She turned back to Hatter, who had puckered his lips into a small 'o'. "Hatter, this is-"

"Tortoise," interrupted the other man. Jelly whipped back around to face him. "She's Tortoise."

"What?" Jack asked, while Jelly was still busy trying to form words.

"I couldn't just stay in the safe house while the both of you were still in the Casino," Mom explained.

"You couldn't have told me earlier, Caterpillar?" Jack asked. "I would have passed the word on to Jelly and we would have had this meeting years ago!"

"Yes, it's evident that if either of the three were more forthcoming about their situation we might have been able to resolve this conflict much sooner," Caterpillar replied. "But until Mock Turtle came with news of Jellybean's defection we didn't have the whole picture, and so we were left with the supposition that as much as Tortoise would like to reunite with her family her family would not go quietly, that Carpenter might be acting under the Queen against his will and inclination but he would continue to do so as long as his daughter remained under her power, and that Jellybean herself was devoted to her duties with an almost fanatical passion."

There was an awkward silence as everyone digested his words, save for the sound of Charlie's tuneless humming as he absorbed himself in peeling flecks of red paint from the white roses lining the edge of the roof.

"Somebody had to play royalist," Jelly said finally, turning to her parents. "We all thought you were dead," she jerked her head in Mom's direction, before locking eyes with Dad "And no one would have believed it coming from you in a thousand years."

Dad's eyes widened, and Jelly realized that he'd never had any idea how much of being a Spade was an act.

_All this time, and he probably thought I was loyal to the Crown,_ she thought, her horror mounting. _And I've been fighting my own mother for years. You don't always hit what you're aiming at. I could have killed her. She could have killed me._

"I was a child when we came here," she said aloud. "I've spent more than half my life in Court. If it was going to be any of us, it was going to be me."

"Jelly-" Hatter began, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Don't," she said, jerking away. Hatter snatched his hand back, and she winced. "Just- one minute, give me one minute."

"One-" Jelly swallowed around a lump in her throat. _No_. she was not going to break down in tears twice in two days. That would be stupid. "I'll be back in a minute."

She walked quickly away from them, just barely resisting the urge to break into a run. She spotted the armrest of a bench around the corner from the rooftop door, and made a crowflight for it. She sat down, kept her breathing deep and blinked the moisture from her eyes before it could overflow.

Charlie clanked over to her before sitting down on her right side, rubbing absently on the petals of a particularly red rose, singing quietly to himself. Jelly stared at him.

"What am I doing?" she asked, only half to the knight. Charlie stopped singing, and tilted his head at her, curious. She continued. "I had my plan all nailed down. I would go to the Resistance, and they would get Dad out, and I would do their work until either the Crown found me or I racked up enough favors to follow him. None of that's even an option now. It's not all bad, but I don't know what I'm doing. Jack has the Stone, Mom's alive, Hatter's shop was probably torched, you exist, and I've killed my own-"

She stopped. This wasn't helping.

Charlie peered at her curiously, still working the paint off the rose in his hands. "How old were you, when you were brought to Wonderland."

"Ten," Jelly replied. "I was ten."

"Ah," Charlie replied. "Must have been quite a shock."

"It was." She didn't remember very much of her first day in Wonderland, only that her head really hurt and there was a lot of shouting involved. But shock was definitely an applicable word.

Charlie stopped peeling the paint off his flower and stared at it.

"You okay?" she asked him.

"I was ten once," he replied distantly. "I was ten when the armies came- one of three squires to the real White Knight. My job was to carry the great lance. But when it mattered, when I was needed most… I lost my nerve, and I ran."

Jelly stared. Charlie began to work on his rose again.

"I hid for three days," he continued. "And when I came out, everyone was dead, even the magnificent Red King, still sitting on his throne. At first I wished that I'd died with them, but after a while a deeper feeling took over. I wanted a second chance. I wanted to avenge them. So I stole the White Knight's armor, his name… his courage. And I waited for the right time. When the three of you showed up, ring in hand, I knew the right time had finally arrived."

He held out the now-white rose to her.

"Thanks," Jelly said numbly, and took it.

There was a small cough from the corner. Jelly looked up and faced her mother.

"As long as were stretching minutes," Mom said. "Could we talk, Al- Jellybean?"

"Surely!" Charlie answered for her, jumping to his feet. He clamored away, and Mom took his seat on the bench.

Alice stared at her for a moment, not sure what to say.

"Look at you," Mom said quietly, reaching out a hand to cup her face. "You're taller than me, now."

"I had half a tree in my face earlier today too," Alice told her, tugging her mother's hand away from her face and intertwining their fingers.

Mom squeezed her hand, and pressed her mouth into a thin line. "How have you been?"

"Lately? Kind of confused," she admitted. "In general? I'm okay. I'm just fine."

"Do you want to try that again with sincerity?" Mom asked.

Alice snorted. "No, I'll stick with my first story, thank you. How about you? How have you been?"

"I'm okay," Mom echoed. "I'm just fine."

"Rain check?" Alice offered, only smirking a little.

"I suppose that's for the best," Mom admitted. "I just don't- I missed so much of your life. I missed you growing up. I missed you, and I'm so sorry I didn't try harder to get back to you."

"It's not your fault. It's not anyone's fault. Not anyone here at least," Alice protested. "We all did the best we could with the information we had. We just never felt safe enough to check each other's notes."

Mom frowned.

"The way I hear it, you came running when you heard we were out. Besides, you haven't missed everything yet," Alice continued. "It's not like I'm married, or courting or anything yet. You'll be here for that."

Mom gave her a searching look.

"What?" she asked.

"If you aren't courting," Mom said. "What's the deal with Hatter?"

"I told you," Alice replied. "He's my Resistance contact."

"Which is why he looks at you like you're at the center of the universe," Mom half-asked.

"… What?" Alice said.

Mom raised an eyebrow.

"Hatter's just a flirty, friendly person," she explained.

"He didn't come off that way," Mom replied.

"It's been an intense couple of days," Alice said.

Mom's eyebrow climbed higher.

"By which I mean we found out Jack was Resistance, walked in on Hatter's shop being ransacked, got chased by a Jabberwock, and were ambushed by Suits," she added hastily. They'd also ridden on horseback, had a moonlight heart-to-heart, and cuddled a bit, but she figured including those tidbits would give off the wrong impression. "Look. Let's go back with the men and figure out what's going on as far as overthrowing the Crown goes."

"I'll hold you to that rain check, Jellybean," Mom told her.

"I know," Alice replied.

They sat around a table beneath an awning as they talked. It was an incredibly frustrating process. Caterpillar refused to speak directly to anyone who wasn't Jack, Mom, or very occasionally her father. For his part, Dad was mostly staring off into space again. Charlie started out trying to look noble and ended up nodding off with his head on his chest. Hatter alternated between sending her concerned looks and interjecting on the three-way argument Jack, Caterpillar, and Mom were having about the fate of the Stone. Caterpillar wanted them all to remain here, so that they would have news the moment the Casino fell. Mom felt that all of them should take the Stone and hide out in the country. Jack was reluctant to give the Stone up, and torn between wanting to be in the City where he could more easily coordinate his supporters, and being out in the country where it would be safer. Alice tottered on the verge of swallowing the Stone and declaring that she'd be in the Wabe until everything sorted itself out, and they could come find her then.

Eventually they decided that she, Jack, and Hatter would hide out in the country, probably taking Charlie with them. Mom would keep the Suits engaged; Dad would stay in the Hospital of Dreams with Caterpillar and work on a way to cure Tea addiction in mass quantities. The Casino would fall on its own without the Looking Glass in operation, and the government would fall with it.

It wasn't ideal. It wasn't even close to ideal; the collateral damage would be huge. They would likely lose every Oyster in the Casino, as well as large chunks of the civilian population as the City devolved back into rioting, not to mention the Suits that would go off the edge without Tea or die at the hands of angry mobs. But it was the surest way to topple the Crown.

"Wake up," Alice whispered, clapping her hand on Charlie's shoulder. The knight started awake. "We're going to go hide out for a while until the Queen's reign collapses under its own weight. Do you want to come with?"

"Certainly," Charlie replied enthusiastically as he stood. "We can hide easily amongst the City of the Knights."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Hatter interrupted, standing himself. "March will be able to tell we've been there, and that someone lived there for ages. He'd be expecting us to return."

Charlie frowned. "The man with the rabbit head? Truly?"

"I told you, he's an assassin, and he's very good at what he does," Hatter replied, swinging his jacket back on.

"But I don't see how-"

"We left in a hurry. There must be evidence," Jack pointed out from where he was leaning against the wall.

"We didn't obscure our footprints around camp- he'll be able to tell that there was four of us," Hatter told him as he walked out from under the awning and towards the door. "Your inventions will tell him that someone was there on their own for a very long time. No, trust me, he knows."

"I know how to blow up the Casino," Dad said matter-of-factly.

Mom and Caterpillar looked at him askance. Hatter stopped mid-stride, before spinning around on his heels. "Come again?" he asked.

"I know how to blow up the Casino," Dad repeated. "There's a design flaw- I think that's why they executed that other Carpenter. He must have built it in when he designed the place. If the Oysters were ever to experience a strong negative emotion, the distillation system would filter it in with the positive emotions. There would be a catastrophic meltdown that would take out the entire Casino."

Everyone in the room stared at him. Dad shifted uncomfortably.

"There are two main issues I've been having trouble working out," Dad continued after a moment. "The first is that someone needs to be in at least one of the Oyster rooms to wake them up. They've been taken from their homes and their feet are stuck to the floor- negative emotions will just come naturally from that. Each room is guarded by two Spades, however, and seeing as the last time I went up against two Spades didn't end so well, so I'm still trying to find a way around that. The other problem is getting the Oysters released. The Eggmen are supposed to do so in the case of an emergency, but between how steeped they generally are and how panicked the Casino coming down on top of them would make them, I'm not sure they would. So I'd need to get to back down to the lab, at which point Walrus would probably shoot me."

"You've been thinking about this a lot," Alice realized. "Is that why you've been so… not all there, lately?"

Dad grimaced. "I was hoping you hadn't noticed."

"Oh, I noticed," Alice told him.

"So how are we going to get far enough into the Casino to cause havoc?" Hatter asked. "And how are we not going to die in the process."

"I think I know how to get in," Jelly said slowly, turning so that she was facing Jack directly. "But you're not going to like it."

"That's generally what-" Jack began, but was cut off by the sound of a scream echoing up from below. He turned around and peered over the edge; Hatter and Mom joined him.

"What is it?" Jelly asked.

"March seems to have gotten himself a new posse," Hatter replied, pale-faced.

"Fucktastic," Jelly grit out. Mom sent her a sharp look.

"Yeah, sorry," Jelly apologized, only somewhat sarcastically, before turning to Caterpillar. "How many exits does this place have?"

"It would be a small matter to take a plank and make a bridge into one of the nearby buildings," Caterpillar replied.

"Good. Do that, I'll catch you up," Jelly advised, pulling her gun out of her holster.

"What do you think you're doing?" Mom asked.

"I'm buying you time," Jelly said.

"By doing what, exactly?" Mom said, sounding dangerous.

"Jamming the elevator and blocking the stairs," Jelly explained. _If I'm lucky_ she didn't add aloud.

"That's stupid," Hatter opined.

"Do you have a better idea?" Jelly asked.

"Actually, I do," Hatter replied. "Tortoise and Caterpillar run the Resistance, Jack's got the Stone, and Carpenter needs to find some way to deal with the Tea heads." He turned around to face the people he'd just named. "You're too important to get caught. If you go down, the rest of us don't have a chance." He turned back to her. "So that's you, me, and Charlie. We shut the place down and then get the hell out and meet up with the rest later."

"But-" Mom and Dad protested as one.

"We'll cover more ground if we split up," Jelly cut them off. "I'll take right, you get left, and Charlie can shore up the middle."

"Wait," Charlie said. "You're being serious."

"Yes," Jelly said, heading towards the door. "Come on, we're almost out of time."

It was a moment before she heard Charlie begin to clank after them, but by the time she reached the door he was following. She wrenched the door open and scrambled down the stairs. There was an elevator just down the end of the hall, and she raced towards it. She opened the service panel.

"Okay, so when you come across an elevator," she began as Hatter and Charlie reached the end of the stairs. "You need to find the service panel. Then you go for the thick, green tube. Then," she placed her gun carefully down on the floor and withdrew the knife from her pocket. "You stab it," she did so "Good and hard, so it goes all the way through. Then you," she shifted so that her back was flat against the wall and reached behind her before narrating her actions "Twist and pull out." A thin jet of black goo spurted out of the panel, which sparked slightly. Jelly began to wipe the knife off on the carpet until Hatter pulled out a handkerchief for her to use instead. "And that's how you disable an elevator. Let's go- and don't get caught." She picked up her gun.

Hatter went left and she went right, and Charlie eventually stopped staring at the puddle of goo and made his way forwards. Jelly spent a moment fervently hoping that any Suits that would come across him would mistake him for a patient, before she focused herself on the task at hand.

The Hospital of Dreams was full of ornate furniture impoverished Courtesans had offered as payment for their treatments; it made finding things to block the staircases with easy. Jelly had managed to finish her entire third without hearing anything more than the sound of distant curses as the Suits tried to find a way up, and was feeling cautiously optimistic about their chances of pulling this off when everything went straight to hell.

The Suits came up from the hall just around the corner from the elevator Jelly had been disabling. She pulled her knife out of the tube and managed to get her gun in hand and her body in a defensive position behind a cabinet before they opened fire. She was so engaged in exchanging fire that she didn't hear the sound of March's footsteps pounding the carpet until it was too late. She turned around, but he'd disarmed her before she could get off a single shot, wrenching the gun from her hands and bending her wrist back to the point of pain. The gun hit the far wall with a small clatter, and March's hand was around her throat before she could even yell in pain and surprise.

He lifted her clear off her feet and slammed her against the wall. "Where's Hatter?" he growled.

Jelly didn't answer; she was too busy trying to blink the spots out of her eyes, hook her heels on the baseboard, and breathe.

"March?" called one of the Suits.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" March yelled back, shifting his hand from her throat to her shoulder. Jelly slumped against wall, massaging her throat with her free hand before she remembered that she still had a knife in her pocket. "Go find the others," March ordered, and turned back to her just as she'd stuck her hand in her pocket.

"Where's Hatter?" he repeated.

"What's it to you?" Jelly snapped.

"What, a guy can't ask after his baby brother?" March replied.

Jelly went limp with shock. March reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out the knife. It fell to the floor, and March began to pat her down for more weapons, pausing to discard the spare clips she had with her.

"You had the same teeth as him," she said finally.

March's reply was to spin her so she was facing the wall, and divest her of the knife between her shoulder blades and the gun at the small of her back. Her arm was wrenched up back enough that she was momentarily afraid of dislocating it, and she hit the wall with enough force to drive the air from her lungs.

"Where's Hatter?" March said again, the cold ceramic of his rabbit nose pressing against her ear.

"I don't know," Jelly told him.

March pulled her other arm up and pinned both her wrists to the center of her back. Jelly grunted, and set her jaw.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Positive," she grit out.

He pulled back on her wrists and she stumbled off the wall.

"Are you really sure, Jellybean?" he asked, pressing the 'door open' button on the elevator.

"Really," she replied, stamping down on his instep. His grip on her wrists slipped, and she tugged her right arm free and pulled it back for a punch. Then the elevator doors opened with a ding and March all but flung her by her trapped arm into the empty elevator shaft.

Jelly screamed, and her right hand changed quickly from throwing a punch at March to clutching tightly to his wrist. She looked down for a fleeting moment, and could just make out the top of the elevator she'd disabled, far, far too many stories below her.

"This is your big fear, yeah?" March asked, as Jelly tried not to hyperventilate. "Heights aren't really your thing, and falls even less, right?"

Jelly didn't reply.

"Tell me where Hatter is," March repeated.

"I don't know," she said again.

"Tell me!" March ordered shaking her a little.

"I don't know!"

"I'm right behind you, March," Hatter's voice rang out from the hall. "Let her go."

March's head jerked to the side. "Tell you what, Hatter. Put down your gun first and I'll do as you meant, not as you said."

Jelly heard the clatter of a gun falling to the ground, and then March heaved her back into the corridor, where she went spiraling into the edge of an armoire. She pressed herself against the wall unsurprised when she reached a hand up to the side of her face again and found it sticky with blood.

Hatter starts forwards, but stops when they make eye contact. _Move him away_, she tried to communicate _He missed the knife in my boot, if you can just get him to expose his back I've got a chance._

Thankfully, he turned his attention back on March before she could get to _Assuming, of course, that you aren't going to attack me for killing your brother. But I've kind of got the vibe that your relationship with him is even more fucked up than the relationship between Jack and his parents so maybe that's not applicable?_

"Hi Hatter," March greeted him. "How have you been?"

"You mean before having my shop stormed and being chased all through the bloody Forest of Wabe? Peachy-keen," Hatter replied.

"Oh good," March said, pulling out his switchblade. It _snickered_ open and Hatter took an involuntary step back. "I'd hate to think that killing me gave you any trouble sleeping."

Hatter laughed, a wild, mad edge in his voice. "You're kidding, right? Without having to make sure you weren't going to pop in and knife me, I slept like a baby."

March started forward, and Jelly slipped her fingers into her boot, wrapping them around the hilt of her knife. Hatter stands where he is, but pulls his fist back, waiting for March to come into range.

"Oh good. You'll be well-rested when you die, then," March tells him.

Jelly opened the knife and lunged. March pivoted and disarmed her, but before he could do anything painful- or more final- he froze. There was a distinct crunch of plaster and wires, and a crack split March's face in two before he collapsed on the floor, dead.

She and Hatter stared at each other for a moment. Then Hatter pulled another handkerchief out of his jacket pocket and handed it to her. "Here, you look like you could use this."

Jelly stared at him, until Hatter leaned over March's body and pressed it against the cut on her head. Jelly grimaced and held it in place.

"In case you were wondering," Hatter said. "I do have more of those, and a spare gun, and a lock picking kit, and a flask full of brandy, which I'm kind of glad I didn't break out last night because then there would be nothing to get us through today."

"I pretty much just had my body weight in weapons," Jelly admitted, bending down to collect them.

"Given the way things are running, that was probably a good idea," Hatter said, handing her one of her guns. She slid it back into the holster at the small of her back, wincing as she did so.

She was bleeding, and bruised, but she was alive. And so was Hatter. And so wasn't March.

"Are you okay?" she asked him.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" Hatter replied quickly, pocketing his own gun. He spends too long fiddling with it before spinning to face her again. "What'd he tell you?"

"That you were brothers," Jelly replied.

Hatter looked dismayed. But before he could say anything, there was the sound of screaming from the center of the building.

"And here we go again," Jelly muttered, and they took off.

The screaming was from the Suits, who were gathered in a pool, floating on overturned tables and the rowboat Dad mentioned earlier. Dad was leaning against the tiled wall next to Mom, looking pretty well pleased with himself. Caterpillar was puffing on a hookah, and as they watched Charlie gave a cry of "GALADOON DE BOOSHE!" which seemed to somehow cause the floating Suits to begin to drift towards the center of the pool.

"That still makes no sense, right?" Jelly asked. "That's not just the head wound?"

"There is no sense coming from Charlie," Hatter confirmed. "Not ever, would be my guess."

"Ah," said Jack from behind them. "There you are. I was starting to worry- rightly it seems."

He frowned at the handkerchief Jelly was still clutching to her head. Jelly glared at him. "What happened to the plan?"

"Everyone but you realized that the only people you outrank are the ones trying to turn us over to my mother," Jack replied. "So we came up with a new plan. By the way, what happened to March?"

"I did," Hatter replied bluntly. "Twice."

This meant that she'd based her original gamble upon a false supposition, Jelly realized. Hatter probably hadn't been acting under Resistance orders, and he certainly wasn't installed in the Casino. She was horrified for a few seconds, before she gave herself a kick and realized that things had managed to work out anyway.

"Jellybean!" Dad seemed to have just realized that she was in the room, and that she was a bit more beat up than she had been earlier. Mom started towards her as well, and Jelly had the distinct impression that they were going to fuss over her like she was ten again right in front of everybody.

"I'm fine," she tried to head them off. "I'm fine, really I-" As she cast around for something, anything to deflect her parents, she accidentally locked eyes with Darrel, who glowered at her from his wobbly perch at the front of the rowboat. She was hit with a sudden, wondrous bolt of inspiration. "And I know how we're going to bring down the Casino."

"You do?" Mom asked, sounding unimpressed.

Alice batted her mother's hands away from her face and stepped up to the edge of the pool.

"Darrel!" she yelled. "How do you feel about joining the Resistance?"

Darrel laughed at her. "You _have_ gone mad."

"We're in the Hospital of Dreams," Alice shot back. "We're all mad here. Seriously, though, you can't tell me you like the Queen."

"_Nobody_ likes the Queen," Jack muttered from behind her.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Darrel asked.

"Everything and nothing," Alice replied. "Nothing because that's what's there, and everything because then I can give you a recruitment speech."

Darrel shook his head, bemused. "After the sort of shit you were pulling this morning that speech would need to give me a pretty good reason to listen to you."

Alice nearly flinched, but forced herself not to. She recalled his daughters instead, and smiled. "I can give you three pretty and good reasons," she told him, before remembering his late wife. The smile slid off her face, "Possibly four."

"I'm waiting, Jellybean" Darrel replied.

Alice took a deep breath, and began to slide the cards out of the Queen's pack.


	7. Wheel of Fortune

_**WHEEL OF FORTUNE**_

_Upright__ - Effortless success. Good fortune that is unexpected. Coincidences. Luck. The beginning of a new cycle. Advancement. Positive upheaval. Change. A card of good fortune, the appearance of destiny and Karmic change._

_Reversed__ - Bad luck that is unexpected. Resistance to change. Unexpected interruptions. A warning against gambling. Difficulties. Delays._

When Alice was twenty-three years old, she brought down the whole house of cards.

They moved through the City the morning after, Jelly back in her uniform and at the head of the posse with Darrel. Hatter and Jack were there too, keeping themselves from thinking too much about what they were about to do by making snarky remarks every time one of them opened their mouths. That, and the fact that the Suits were nervous about their impending role as mutineers made the walk back to police headquarters was made somewhat more awkward than it needed to be.

She didn't think any of them would bail out on it. She was asking them to take one risk in return for safety for their families for the rest of their soon-to-be-longer lives, Mom and Caterpillar had promised that they would shield any Suit that refused to fight them from Resistance reprisals, and Jack had promised that if they switched sides now he would make sure that they had a job after the dust settled. It was a good deal. It just went against everything they'd been conditioned since birth to be.

"We're almost there," Darrel noted.

Jelly nodded, and withdrew the handcuffs from inside her jacket. Traveling through the city with people who didn't have the use of their hands could be treacherous, but they couldn't put it off any longer. "Front or back?" she asked.

"If we were doing this for real, how annoyed would you be right now?" Jack asked.

"Back it is then," she replied, tossing a pair to Darrel for Jack's wrists.

She turned to Hatter, who had his back to her and was offering up his wrists.

"I would like to take this chance to point out that when I told you that you'd have to arrest me, I was kidding," he said.

"Last chance to bow out gracefully," she offered.

"Nope," Hatter replied, wiggling his fingers a bit. Jelly took the hint began to fasten the handcuffs on. "The more people we have in the Casino to wreak havoc the better off we'll be. Though, I think this means that I have to show you some etchings later."

"When this is all over, you can give me the grand tour of etchings," Jelly told him, making sure that the handcuffs weren't on too tight. There was the deep, throbbing hum of a Scarab overhead, and the EPs on both her and Darrel's wrists began to beep.

"That's the King," Darrel said.

"And here we go," Jelly muttered, taking hold of Hatter's arm.

The rest of the way to headquarters was easier, if only because everyone knew what role they were going to play. Hatter and Jack were prisoners; everyone else was their escort. If they could just stick to that story for the next little while, then they'd get through okay.

They go through the bottom entrance. Shakina stared at her from behind the desk.

"Ten?" she asked.

"Which one?" Darrel asked.

Shakina looked even more unsure of herself, her eyes darting back and forth between the two Tens.

"Open the elevator," Jelly ordered. "We don't want to keep the King waiting."

Darrel nodded, and Shakina pressed the sequence of buttons that would let them into the headquarters proper. "Yes, Ace. Um, welcome back?"

"Good to be back, Four," Jelly lied, giving Hatter a rough shove forwards as the elevator opened. Quigley Tove and his hand came pouring out; Tove made a double-take at the sight of her escorting Hatter in handcuffs before skittering hurriedly away. Jelly winced. He would probably slip away and go into hiding at the first available opportunity, which meant that she was going to have to dig him up later.

They made the elevator ride in silence, save for the clink of handcuffs and the sound of deliberate, even breathing. The doors slid open with a small 'ding' and they stepped out into the office level. The King was waiting for them there, flanked by Othello and Cricket.

"Your Majesty," both she and Darrel said, nodding their heads in respect.

The King sent her a suspicious look. "Tens," he acknowledged, before turning to his son, his expression becoming strained. "Jack. What did you do to your hair?"

"I dyed it," Jack replied tartly.

"Your mother," the King sighed, "Is going to have raths."

"Did she ever stop having raths?" Hatter asked, startling everyone.

"No, but I suppose now she'll be having entire litters of them," Jack replied.

Hatter was going to reply, but Jelly cut him off by jerking him back just hard enough to put some stress on his shoulder_. Please don't make me hit you_ she tried to tell him. Considering the only thing she had to convey it with was a stern look, she wasn't sure if he got the message.

"And who's this, Ten?" the King asked her.

"This is Hatter," Jelly introduced him, pushing him forwards a bit. "He's the one who killed March."

"Really?" the King replied, scrutinizing him. To her surprise, a flicker of recognition appeared on his face. "Don't you own our top-grossing Tea Shop?" he asked Hatter.

"Absolutely," Hatter told him, smiling just a bit too wide. "And it made for a spectacular cover. The Resistance is very grateful."

Jelly yanked on his arms again, and he looked at her over his shoulder with a grimace. _Seriously, stop making me hurt you_, she tried to tell him with a glare. He sent a look back that said _I know what I'm doing_, before saying out loud. "Oh, lay off. You're just miffed because I got the drop on you."

"Notice which one of us is in handcuffs," Jelly growled, trying to warn him to back down. What the hell was he up to?

"Temporary setback," Hatter told her.

"I thought you said that the Resistance had an agent in the Casino," the King interrupted.

"That's what I had supposed," Jelly said, at the same time Hatter said "That's what I wanted you to think."

She couldn't let that go, not in front of a still-suspicious King and the deck she would need to convince to mutiny against him in few moments time. She punched him in the stomach, and Hatter doubled over like he wasn't still in body armor and she hadn't pulled it.

_What the fuck are you doing?_ She wanted to scream at him. _If you mouth of like this to the Suits on the Scarab, they're going to hurt you. You've got to know that, why are you doing this?_

"Shut it," she ordered. "I can hurt you."

"Considering how many Suits are laying in the Wabe, you might want to take that threatening tone done a notch," he snapped back. "You're not as tough as you think you are."

_Why would you say that? Why would you imply that __**you**__ killed them? Seriously, should I have not been kidding when I asked you if you had a death wish?_

But evidentially their nonverbal communication was broken, because Hatter made no reply. Or maybe he was just nonverbally ignoring her.

"Well, we'll have to sort that out later," the King said cheerfully, jerking his head in Hatter's direction. Cricket took him out of her hands, and Darrel followed them with Jack, the rest of the posse trailing close behind. The King turned to her, his face slightly warmer with the prisoners taken care of, but not as warm as it would have been last week. "Welcome back, Jellybean. We were worried about you."

"_I_ was worried about me, Your Majesty," Jelly replied. "Shortly after I made contact, the Resistance had me intercept Jack. For a while there I thought he might be acting as one of their agents."

"And is he?" the King asked.

"They want him on their side," Jelly told him. "The definitely helped him out of Wonderland. But they didn't get any farther with him."

"But you think he would," the King said.

"Jack's made a profession of rebelling against his parents," Jelly replied. "I'm not sure how much a distinction there is in his mind between 'parent' and 'Crown'."

The King frowned, and nodded to himself. "You should get the head wound checked. And then number Nine will fill you in, I'm sure."

"Thank you, your Majesty," Jellybean said, with a small bow. The King left; she turned to Othello, smiling slightly. "I hope you didn't get too comfy in my office?"

"I ate all your chocolate," he said, rolling his eyes. "Come on, you need the infirmary."

Othello was unusually quiet as they made their way to the infirmary. Jelly had expected more complaining: about the extra work, about the scrutiny the Crown would have placed them under, about not having told him what she was up to, about the fact that she was back meant he was no longer a candidate for Ten, even. But there was nothing but the strange looks he was shooting her out of the corner of his eyes.

"What, Othello?" she asked finally.

"You're going to want to be sitting down for this," he told her, holding the door to the infirmary open for her.

Jelly raised her eyebrows but went through, and was immediately accosted by the head medic, a forceful woman by the name of Morgana. Othello hovered, nervously readjusting his bowtie, and she was examined, disinfected, bandaged, and made to decline the offer of some Numb to help her through the day.

"And now you're free to go," Morgana finished. "Don't do anything strenuous today."

"Yeah, that's … not very likely to happen," Jelly told her.

"Oh?" Morgana asked, hands on her hips.

"I'm pretty sure I've got a few things to take care of today."

Before Morgana could reply to that, Othello cut in with "Why don't you let me talk to her for a bit, Seven?"

Morgana considered it for a moment, before leaving with a "Don't let her get up just yet."

"I won't," Othello told her as the door shut.

"I'll be honest, you're kind of creeping me out," Jelly told him.

"Right back at you with the whole being honest thing, I'm kind of afraid you're going to shoot me in a minute," Othello replied.

"Well, spit it out," Jelly said. Time was ticking away- time the Scarab ride between the City and the Casino, time to turn her deck against the Crown, time before Mom, Dad, and Charlie needed their distraction. But whatever had gotten Othello upset enough to stop his whining certainly had the potential to steer their plan in a wrongwards direction, and with Hatter acting so off she really needed to know what was going on.

"It's your father," Othello said. "The Resistance kidnapped him two days ago."

Or it could be a complete non-issue, and one she should have seen coming at that. Now she just felt silly.

"Jelly?"

"I knew that already," she said .

Othello frowned. "I thought they might be holding that over you, after I heard you attacked Agent White and helped the prince escape. But, what happened to Carpenter then?"

"He's fine," Jelly told him. "I saw him just-"

"Do they still have him?" Othello interrupted to ask. "Because, you're back, and he's not-"

"Othello," Alice cut him off, and stood. "The Resistance has Dad because I asked them to get him out of the Casino."

"What," Othello said.

"He was going crazy," Alice explained. "He doesn't like to show it in front of people he outranks, but he hates it here, and he hates the work he does. If the Queen wasn't holding the threat of my death and/or his brainwashing over his head he wouldn't do it at all, and with the new regulations for the White Rabbit- the ones that let them kidnap kids?- that wasn't going to work for much longer. I needed to get him out before he went mad."

Othello's frown deepened, but he nodded grudgingly. "Okay, I can understand that." He paused a moment, and then shook his head. "No I can't. You came back- you came back with _Resistance prisoners_. And not your father. How does that even-"

"I didn't intend on coming back when I left," Alice admitted. "I decided to anyway because I realized that as long as the Queen was in power, none of us would ever be safe."

Othello stared at her. "Just how hard did you hit your head?" he demanded.

"Othello, listen to me," Alice pleaded. "You know this isn't right. You know half the people we send to execution don't-"

"Fuck me," Othello whispered. "They're not prisoners. They're _saboteurs_."

He rushed out of the room; Jelly followed.

"Othello!" she yelled.

"Don't you even start!" Othello yelled, not stopping, not even looking back at her over his shoulder as he strode across the room, heading for the intercom right outside Uthar's office. "You sold us all out!"

"No, I didn't," she protested. The knowledge that she'd intended to, that she'd gone through with killing some of their fellows sapped some of the strength from her argument. She pressed onwards anyway. "We all sold ourselves out. We toe the line and nod along with the Queen and follow her every order that isn't immediately rescinded by the King in exchange for regular meals, and medical care, and not being executed and it doesn't even work!"

The normal buzz of filling paperwork and chatter amongst coworkers was noticeable absent as Othello turned around. "Do you really expect the Resistance to treat us any better?" he asked. "After one hundred and fifty years of fighting? After the fucking food riots? You remember those, right? You remember what we did? Do you really think they'd be prepared to forgive that?"

"I know they would be," Jelly shot back. "I've talked with Caterpillar and Tortoise. They've promised amnesty to whoever doesn't fight them on this. If you can't bring yourself to help, all you need to do is sit this one out. There won't be any retaliations. We'll all even still have jobs after this."

"Bullshit," Othello spat. "That's bullshit. That's the shittiest thing to ever come out of a bull."

He turned again, but before he could move, Jelly had fired back with "It's not, and maybe if you weren't so scared you could see that!"

"What?" he squawked.

"I said you're scared," Jelly repeated. "I implied that the Queen and her whole system terrified you."

"You're mad!" Othello shouted, though he didn't deny it. "I mean, you were always crazy, but are you even listening to yourself talk now?"

"Who are you dating?" Jelly asked.

"What?" Othello asked.

"Who are you dating?" she repeated, taking a step towards him. He didn't move away, and she began to hope that this wouldn't end in disaster, that this would be like her other crazy plans, and once she'd managed to cut through his bluster he would hop on board like he always did. His complaints were only louder and more public because she was asking more of him than she'd ever asked before.

The alternative was something she had tried very hard not to think about, back when she thought that she would be leaving the Spades behind forever.

"We all know you're courting someone," she continued. "We can all tell you're serious about her too. But you've never mentioned her name. You've never introduced her to any of us. So, I'm curious. Who is she?"

"What does that even have to do anything?" he cried.

"Because the reason you haven't brought her up is because you're afraid of what would happen to her if people knew you were courting seriously," Jelly said.

"Or I'm embarrassed because my boss is a crazy woman!" Othello shot back. But his voice was pitched half an octave lower than usual, and he'd bladed his body towards her so that he was minimized as a target. She'd put him on the defensive, which meant that she was on the right track.

"Please. Stop deflecting and think!" Jelly replied. "Or at least acknowledge that you do. I've known you for years, Othello and you're not stupid at all. You figured out how this system works ages ago; you probably have a better grasp on it than the Queen! You certainly got there before I did!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Othello said slowly.

"Yes you do," Jelly snapped. "What was that you had against bullshit earlier?"

She moved forwards, intended to whisper to him, and spare him the embarrassment of having some of the specifics of her argument in front of the people he commanded. Then Othello reached into his jacket and pulled out a knife.

"Back off," he snarled. "And shut up while you're at it."

Jelly stopped and was silent, but only for as long as it took to shake off the shock of having her former partner threaten her. Then she yelled, making sure her words carried. "Just about the only part I'm not sure of is whether or not marriage would have come up before you worked it through or after. Because you _know_ that if you were to marry her- whoever she is!- and bring her back to the Casino that it would only be a matter of time before the Queen would be calling for her head. You could try to avoid it; live in the City, but you've been at this job longer than I have. The Suit communities are comparatively safe, but there are riots and unleashed serial killers on top of the Queen's visits to worry about. She could still be sentenced to execution. And unless she was really something necessary, sooner or later the King would let the order stand."

Othello stopped, a mere two cubits from the intercom. His back was to her, but she could see his shoulders flex, as though he was fiddling with his bow tie. There was no sound; it seemed like everyone in the room was holding their breath.

"It would probably be later, though," Jelly continued. "You're high ranking and skilled enough that the Crown would want leverage over you no matter how loyal you are, so they would wait until there were kids. Then you really wouldn't have any choice but to do what you were told; it's not like you could leave your own children to face Court on their own. And that eventuality _terrifies_ you, because like I said earlier, you're not stupid. If you keep it secret, never put anything down on the record, then the civilians see her as just another mistress and you're just another committed bachelor to us Suits. Or you could help me. We can end this. We can end it today- no more executions, no more hiding, no more _fear_."

Othello spun around, and Jelly realized that he hadn't been fiddling with his bowtie. He'd been converting Magpie's knife into a gun.

"Yeah, the system _sucks_." Othello sneered, pointing the gun straight at her head. "But bringing it down is sui-"

Uthar stepped out of his office and calmly brought down the butt of his pistol on the back of Othello's head. His eyes rolled back in his head as he crumpled to the floor.

Jelly gaped.

"Is it true?" Uthar asked her.

"Is what true?" Jelly asked warily, reaching and hand behind her to clasp around the handle of the gun holstered in the small of her back.

"Don't give me that," Uthar snapped, his tone strained. "I'm more than old enough to remember the day you arrived in Court, and who you really are. I've been waiting for you to bring an end to this ever since. Is it today?"

"Who is she?" asked Alban before she could respond.

Uthar and Jelly both turned to look at him.

"You just _knocked out_ Othello," the Five stressed. "That's not like you at all." He turned to face her, confused, on hand resting nervously on the butt of his gun. "What are you, the White Queen's heir?"

"She's Alice," Uthar said, deliberately matter of fact. He didn't say it like he was announcing that the sky was blue. He said it like Hatter had explained that he'd once had his arm cut off, like Jack had explained that she was an Oyster and would be drained if caught. He knew that he'd introduced a game changer.

At least she could tell that everyone had started breathing again, because there was a sudden chorus of gasps. There was a flurry of movement as people made eye contact with their coworkers, looking for confirmation that they'd heard what they'd thought they'd heard.

"Alice?" Uthar asked.

She just wasn't sure that she could play this game- the Return of Alice game, that is. And admitting that she was called Alice would be as good as admitted she _was_ Alice, especially today when she was planning treason and mutiny. The two concepts being so closely intertwined was the whole reason she'd gone by Jellybean in the first place.

"One way or another, the Casino is falling today," Alice said, sidestepping the name issue. There was an excited murmur. "I meant what I said to Othello. The Resistance has offered amnesty to anyone who doesn't fight. You don't have to help; just make sure you're out of the way. All we need is the rest of the day."

"What if we want to help?" That was Felicity, her eyes wide, and her skin ashen beneath her freckles.

"Smash the cameras," Alice ordered. "All of them. Release the prisoners you know are non-violent. Then start spreading the word: if anyone wants to help bringing the Casino down, I'm going on the next Scarab over to the Casino, and there's room for two hands on it. There probably won't be any coming after that."

"What about Othello?" Morgana asked.

"Make sure he'll be okay, then stick him in a holding cell," Alice said, after a beat to think it over. "We can sort it later."

For a moment, no one moved. Then Moran pulled a chair over to the wall, stood on it, and plucked the camera off the wall before smashing it to bits on the ground. Then, suddenly, the floor was alight with activity.

_There_, Alice thought, as she helped Morgana carry Othello into the infirmary. _That wasn't as bad as it could have been. Now you just have to convince the Suits who work under the Queen's roof, and you're all set._

Her stomach twisted in upon itself at the thought. It wouldn't hurt as much coming from a Diamond, or a Club, or anyone who wasn't her friend, but there would be more who thought like Othello she would have to fight against, and she wouldn't even have the sway that came from being their superior to fall back upon when it came to non-Spades.

It was almost mid-morning now. Charlie, Mom, and Dad would have set off for the Casino already. She supposed all that really mattered was that there was enough chaos when they arrived that Darrel could let them in the back without too much trouble.

She looked at her EP. The regular Scarab would be arriving soon, and she needed to hijack it. And before could do that, she needed to figure out which of her Suits would be accompanying her.

It was a mark of how worried she was that it took her until halfway through the woman's sentence to realize that she was talking to Sheila as she walked through the cloisters, not Shakina. Really, the Diamond uniform should have been her first clue.

_Focus, Alice. You can't screw this up._

"Darrel stated passing around the word to his Suits, and after I got Shakina's call about you, things sort of snowballed and now we're all here- all the lower Suits, anyway. No one wants this to reach the Trumps or the Hearts, of course, though I saw Cricket sneak off in the direction of the Royal Wing, so I don't know how long we have. None of the Eggmen would leave their posts, and only the off-duty Diamonds are around. Everyone's more or less waiting in the amphitheatre."

"You're babbling, She," Shakina told her twin.

"Oh, yeah," Sheila replied. "I do that when I'm nervous. You might have noticed?"

Shakina rolled her eyes, but squeezed Sheila's shoulder, and didn't let go even as they made their way down the stairs.

"And here we are," Sheila said as they stopped outside the large doors.

"Yeah," Alice said, straightening her jacket. "Okay everybody, let's look impressive!"

She pushed the doors open, which did look impressive, and nearly stumbled to a halt when she found that Sheila hadn't been exaggerating when she'd said that everybody was waiting for them, which was less so. She recovered quickly, though; and strode into the middle of the amphitheatre with her head held high. She scanned the faces of those gathered around- the ones closest to the center were the highest ranking. They were missing Darrel, who would have left to let her parents and Charlie in by now, and as Sheila had mentioned, there were no Eggmen present and Cricket was nowhere to be seen. Almost every other Ten and Nine was present, though, and staring at her, from a very interested looking Otter, to a very steeped looking Freya. Her Spades filled the space between the amphitheatre door and the stage.

This was fine. This was great. So many people were here that as long as she kept them listening to her the window of opportunity for her parents to act in would remain open. She just hoped that the fact that Hatter wasn't around either wasn't a sign that things had gone horribly wrongward. He'd been adamant that he could handle himself, would in fact be out of whatever cell Darrel put him in within moments. She'd have to go check with the Ten of Clubs when she next got the chance. For now, she had the persuade the Queen's most loyal, dependable citizens to rebel.

"Let's start at the beginning," Alice said. "Then when we get to the end, we can stop. First, what have you already heard?"

"You're Alice," Freya piped up before anyone else could say anything. "Aren't you going to tell us we're a pack of cards and disappear down a rabbit hole?"

"No," Alice replied. "We all _already_ know we're nothing but a pack of cards to the Queen. That's our problem."

"We?" That was Dudley, who was looking angry, still stinging from the loss of his men.

"Yes, 'we'," Alice replied. "I wasn't born here, but I've lived here for my than half my life. I've been all but running the Spades for years. 'We'."

"But if you're Alice, you're an Oyster," Otter reasoned.

"…and?" Alice asked. "Come on, how long have you known me? I'd get my Dad to explain to differences, but he's a bit preoccupied to foam about how few there are right now."

"She's different from normal Oysters," Freya said confidently. "She's special. They don't normally talk, or think. I always thought her father might be part Wonderlander, he's so-"

"The Oysters you work with are drugged," Alice snapped. "Of course they don't talk. Of course they can't think. If they weren't, the feelings from being kidnapped and taken away from their homes and families would trickle into your Tea, and you'd fall to pieces."

Freya blinked, looking surprised and a little hurt as a small ripple nervous laughter went around the room. Someone coughed pointedly; the laughter died down.

"Listen to me very, very carefully," Alice said. "I'm not asking you as an Oyster. I'm not even asking you as Alice. I'm asking you, as a Suit, as the Ten of Spades: do you think the Queen is worth the loyalty we've shown her? Because I don't."

A few people shifted uncomfortably in their seats. For a moment, no one met her eyes, then Dudley stepped forwards.

"And as a Suit, as the Ten of Spades, you have an option?" the other Ten of Spades asked mockingly.

"Yes," Alice replied. "We rebel."

There was another buzz as people reacted instinctively to the idea with scorn and horror. There was more coughing too, but Alice thought that just meant that someone was coming down with a cold.

"And then I suppose we all join hands with the Resistance and live in peace and harmony?" Dudley shot back. "We've been fighting for years- we've killed how many of their people at this point? And they've killed how many of ours? We'd be going from the frying pan into the fire!"

"How many of your Suits are on the executioner's docket today?" Alice challenged. "What about yesterday? The day before? Last week? We can put an end to it. As I told my deck earlier, all we need is one day. Just give me one day when you don't follow the Crown's orders, and-"

"Paging all available Spades, there is a security breach in the laboratory. Paging all available Spades-" The loudspeaker crackled to life, startling everyone into the room and provoking a particularly vicious coughing fit from someone. There was the sound of fumbling with the microphone as the nervous-sounding Club handed it over to someone, and then the King's voice rang through the Casino's speaker system. Jelly could hear his words echo in the empty corridor behind her.

"This is your King speaking," he said. "Where are you all? What do you think you're playing at?"

The room became deadly silent, except for the continued coughing fit.

"Unless you're all planning to throw her a surprise unbirthday party, she's not going to be pleased when she notices," the King told them. "And the longer you're away, the more likely it will be that she'll notice. I can't protect you if you don't cooperate."

"And if we cooperate this will never end," Alice told them.

"You should stop trying to get their attention before you hack up a lung, Cricket," Duchess' voice carried across the room. The coughing stopped.

Alice spun around, and motioned for her deck to split to she could see who had been coughing. It was Cricket, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish expression of his face. Beside him was Jack, and Duchess was clutching him arm.

No, she realized as she faced the other woman. _Grace_ was clutching Jack's arm.

"She's right, you know," Jack said, as the room's attention shifted to him. "The Resistance has promised amnesty to anyone who defects. And as you've already heard-"

"All available Spades are to report to laboratories." The nervous Club was back on the speaker. Jack turned to Cricket and jerked his head; Cricket found a pole that was normally used for opening and closing windows, and hit the switch on the speaker box just as the Club was saying "Please?"

"As you've heard, their plan is already in motion," Jack finished.

Dudley scowled. "And you trust the Resistance's word?"

"I've known Caterpillar since I was twelve," Jack said. "Believe me, he is far more trustworthy than my parents."

"And Tortoise is my mother, who is apparently not dead" Alice said. Dudley stared at her, as did many of the people in the room who were old enough to remember Mom's time as a Club. "She'll keep her word."

"And if it all goes wrong, just tell them you were acting under my direction," Grace added. For moment, she her face twisted into the haughty, scornful expression Duchess so often wore. She swayed, eyes closed, and gripped Jack's arm until her knuckles were white. "Jack might technically be the heir while we remain unmarried, but there has never been any doubt that I as the one being groomed for power. The idea that of I've grown impatient and decided to take advantage of this confusion to start a coup won't be too difficult to swallow," she spoke, her eyes still closed.

"Grace?" Jack asked.

She shook her head, once, and pressed her lips tightly together. Jack shot Alice a worried, guilt-laced look, which she took to mean that she was to take over the explanations from here.

"What we really need is for you to not do your jobs today," Alice said. "Don't answer your EPs, and any summons as all either. If you feel up to it, try talking to the Oysters, see if you can't wake them up. It might be a good idea to get the kids and the people in the infirmary out now. Just in case."

"Wake the Oysters up?" Freya asked. "Why? And would talking to them work?"

"If it's about their families, or their homes, yes," Alice replied, avoiding the question of why. Someone would probably put it together with the laboratory issue, anyway, but there was no need to confirm anything. Her parents were safer, the fewer people knew what it was they were trying to do. "Don't they normally talk about those things when they start waking up?"

"We need to deal with Court as well," Grace added. Some of the color had come back into her face, and her eyes were open. "They might not be able to accomplish much without us at their command, but they could still do damage."

"We've accounted for that," Jack assured her.

"That is why I brought a twelfth of my deck along with me," Alice said. "Speaking of accounted for though; where's Hatter?"

Jack shifted uncomfortable, as much as Grace's grip on him would allow. "Jelly he- I tried to convince my parents that he wasn't a threat, but he wouldn't stop _bragging_. I-"

"Where is he?" Alice repeated, before Jack could do something like apologize. Already, this conversation was too close to the one they'd had when they'd both thought her mother had been executed.

"He's in the Truth Room," Jack said.

For a moment, Alice couldn't breathe. She forced herself to anyway. She wanted to go after him that moment, but couldn't leave her Suits without some preliminaries. "Uthar?"

"Yes, Ten." Uthar replied.

"Take our Spades up to Court, and lock it down like we talked about. You're in charge until I come back."

She waited until she was out in the hall before she started to run.

The door to the Truth Room swung inwards, melting away into nothingness rather than banging loudly against the wall like she wanted it to. Then again, the Truth Room didn't seem to have walls at the moment. It didn't appear to have dimensions at all, but rather was a green, pulsing area of indeterminable length, width, or height.

Hatter was seated several cubits away from her, arms bound to the chair. His jacket, body armor, and hat were missing, his face was bruised, and he was bleeding out of his ear. As she watched, one of the Doctors shocked him with a cattle prod, exchanging giggles with his twin as Hatter screamed.

"Leave him," Alice snarled. The Tweedles paused, as though unsure of what to make of their audience. Alice took the knife from inside her pocket and flicked it open. "_I said leave_."

They left, the bottom dropping out of the spots they stood on. Alice rushed over to Hatter and began to cut through the ropes.

"Jelly?" Hatter asked, looking confused beneath the pain.

"You're supposed to be in a cell," Alice snapped. "You're supposed to be in a cell which you can break out of easily."

The Truth Room shuts off suddenly, giving itself white walls of specific dimensions in the process. Hatter is suddenly free and upright; he pat himself down, checking that he had all his clothes back as Jelly flicked her knife closed and put it back in her pocket. His eye was still swollen shut, and there was still a dried trickle of blood coming from his ear, but if he'd been as confrontational on the Scarab ride as he'd been in headquarters, it wouldn't surprise her to learn that he'd had that before the Tweedles got a hold of him. He still seemed confused, and a little frightened, but that was to be expected from anyone who'd just been in the Truth Room.

"What-" Hatter began. Alice cut him off by throwing her arms around him. "Oh," he murmured, surprised, and brought his arms up around her. "This feels good."

"What were you _thinking_?" Alice asked.

Hatter broke the hug, but didn't answer.

"We had a plan," Alice pressed. "Why didn't you stick with it?"

"I noticed we had a problem," Hatter explained. "You have your executions at midmorning, which is- well, I'm pretty sure that's passed. I'd like not to die, if I can help it, so I made myself seem valuable enough to be interrogated instead of executed."

"Nope," Alice said, after a moment's thought. "I don't buy a word of it."

Hatter looked annoyed. "You know, I used to be able to lie to you. As I recall, it was something I did all the time and was very good at."

The door opened at that point, and Grace poked her head in. "Can either of you think of a reason we would need the Tweedles?"

"…no?" Alice replied.

"Good." Grace smiled, and left the door open behind her.

"And that was..?" Hatter asked.

"Grace, Jack's fiancé," Alice explained. "She's fighting off whatever the Crown did to her, I think?"

Hatter shrugged, and began to move towards the exit.

"You still didn't answer my question," Alice called after him.

Hatter grimaced as he turned back around to face her. "Before I told them I'd killed those Suits, would you have owned up to it?"

"Not if it didn't come up," Alice told him. "And what does this-"

"But you would have, if someone had asked," Hatter pressed. "Am I right?"

"They had families and friends who deserve to know what happened to them and why."

"And that's why I'm here," Hatter said. "I was banking on you being pragmatic enough to let me eat the meal I'd cooked for myself, which saves you all the trouble that would come from you telling the truth."

"And you couldn't have talked to me about this before hand?" Alice fumed.

"Would you have listened?" Hatter shot back. Before she could answer he did it himself. "No, you wouldn't have. You might have gone out of your way to avoid bringing the subject up, but when you get down to it, somebody killed those Suits, and you wouldn't have pinned it on me. So I had to tell them it was me, and I had to act like I was the sort of person who would brag about killing people. Otherwise your sense of responsibility would have mucked this whole thing up, and the mess would have come down right on your head."

"So you brought it down on yours first?" Alice retorted, gesturing at his bruised body. "And that's better somehow?"

"_Yes_," Hatter said fiercely. "I'm not about to let you do something without making sure you'd be okay."

Alice stared at him. Hatter stared back. Jack cleared his throat, and the pair of them spun around to find him standing by Grace in the doorway. "Do you need a moment?" he asked.

"We should probably save this for later," Hatter said apologetically, more to her than in reply to Jack. "Ready to bring down the whole house of cards, Jelly?"

"Alice," she told him. He deserved to know.

He raised an eyebrow.

"It's my name," Alice said. "My original one, anyway. Alice Deborah Hamilton."

Hatter stared at her again, less like he'd stared at her a moment again and more like she was Charlie.

"And apparently there are people who've been waiting for me to help with this since I was ten, so I think it's about time, don't you?"

"…okay?" Hatter laughed incredulously. "Sure, let's go bring down the Queen of Hearts, Alice."

They left the Truth Room, Hatter still giggling in disbelief until the four of them made it to the main corridors that serviced the Casino.

The Casino seemed very crowded. Jelly supposed that there weren't very many more people in the corridors than there normally was, but normally, people were sure of where they were going, and what they were doing. As they went through the corridors today, Alice got the impression that no one was very sure of anything. The people they passed hurried by, their eyes downcast; when they went through the Casino rooms, they could here shouting as the Oysters began to wake and demand to know what was going on; a group of toddlers followed their teacher into the elevator, too excited enough by the prospect of going outside to notice any of the chaos around them.

At least, it was like that until the building began to shake. Then the screaming started, punctuated by the sounds of heavy objects crashing to the floor.

_Change of plans_ Alice tapped out on her EP _Take the Queen and Court outside. I'll meet you there_. Then, just to be sure, she sent a message to all the EPs, telling everyone to get out of the Casino now.

They took the stairs three at a time, joined by panicked Suits and, eventually, panicked Oysters as they made their way outside. They ran across the lobby that served as the Casino's main ground entrance, and out onto the green of the clearing that surrounded Wonderland's seat of power. They ran with the crowd up the hill, where there were already people grouped, watching the building shudder. They stopped when they reached the crest, slightly out of breath, and watched as the top of the building exploded in a shower of sparks and smoke before collapsing down on its base. The crowd wailed as one; Hatter arm wound its way around her back, and she realized that she'd stopped breathing.

"-ice. Alice! Ten!"

She turned around, and watched Alban elbow his way through the throngs of people. "Five?" she asked.

"We've got the Queen," he said. "If you want- if you could-the Queen is-"

"Lead the way," she replied. Alban did just that, seemingly grateful for the excuse to do something that didn't require speaking. As he moved ahead of them, he was only distinguishable in the sea of Suits because he'd removed his jacket, and even then they had a hard time Alice heard the Queen before she saw her, her shouting something years of experience had made her sensitive too.

"-I'll have your head. I'll have all your heads, you insubordinate, inept idiots! How dare you even think of manhandling me?" The Queen jabbed her finger into Uthar face, causing him to lean back instinctively.

There was a clearing around her, as everyone who wasn't a member of Court or a Spade she'd ordered to keep the Court under guard gave the Queen a wide berth.

"Jack!" She'd spotted her son. "Jack, I demand to know what's going on! Make them listen to me!"

"It isn't obvious what happened?" Jack replied. "There's been a coup, and you've been deposed."

"You're under arrest too," Alice pointed out.

The Queen focused her attention on her, nearly glowing with ire. "How dare you, you insolent whelp! Who do you think you are?"

Well, she had the perfect answer to that question, didn't she?

"I'm Alice," she replied. "And you should have left my family alone."

The Queens mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.

"The Stone, mother," Jack prodded.

The Queen shifted her focus back to her son. "My own son. You ungrateful little-"

"I'd like the Ring, mother," Jack interrupted. "There are a great many people who need it to go home."

The Queen stared at Jack for a moment, before spitting out "Your father's dead. He refused to leave the Casino."

Jack pulled himself up straighter, and said "Then there will be one less person to agitate for your release."

"I could just cut it off," Hatter offered.

"You'd have to cut off her finger," Grace told him.

"That was kind of what I meant," Hatter replied.

Alice reached back inside her jacket pocket and pulled out one of her knives. "You can borrow this one."

"Thanks, love," Hatter said, flipping it open.

The Queen scowled, and handed the Stone over. Alice started clapping, and her Spades followed suit, until the whole of the people amassed on the hillside had broken into applause.

"Congratulations, Your Majesty," Alice told Jack. "Wonderland's yours."

Jack smiled, and slipped the ring back on his finger. "Well, the good news is there's nowhere to go but up," he said. There was a loud thrumming noise as a fleet of Scarabs- ones that were normally docked in the City- began to arrive. "And there's our ride to it."

"You've already got your timing down," Grace observed.

There was a flash of white in the crowd, and Alice let out of breath she hadn't known she was holding as her parents rushed into view.

"I'd just like to say," Uthar said in a strained tone, before she could fling herself in her parents' direction. "That when you said the Casino was going to fall today, I didn't think you meant it literally."

They didn't go back to Earth right away. The other Oysters did-had to really. Her father had argued to keep them under surveillance; some of them had been hooked and plugged into Oyster beds for years, and there was no telling what sort of affect that would have. But in the end, there was no room for them to stay, and no good way to contain them should their anger about being kept from their homes and families rise. As a compromise, they were sent off only after they'd registered certain essentials, like their names, addresses, and the dates they'd been kidnapped.

Jack set up his new government at headquarters, with the surrounding area serving as makeshift apartments for the Suits and their families. It was all a temporary situation while he got more pressing matters sorted out, but there were so many matters that were pressing that it quickly moved to being semi-permanent. He spent most of his time working with her mother and Caterpillar to weld together something functional out of the remaining government infrastructure and the various Resistance branches. It was a fine line to walk even before the Resistance's rather heterogeneous politics were factored into it. The Resistance people needed to see that someone was held accountable; and to that end, trials that were more revenge than justice were arranged for the former Queen and those who'd been closest to her: the Trumps, the Courtiers, and the Hearts, and a few others like the Walrus whose actions had cast them in an unflattering light. At the same time, the Suits had been promised that there would be no reprisals; Jack released statements about the conditions Suits had lived under, and the knowledge that many had been acting less out of malice and more under fear had brought them, if not forgiveness, then at least the time necessary to begin proving themselves.

Grace had been right there with him, at first. But as the stresses began to pile upon them, she became less and less Grace and more and more Duchess. Eventually, she placed herself under the care of the doctors at the Hospital of Dreams, and from what Alice had heard she was there still.

Charlie had disappeared, worrying everyone who knew him well enough to worry until Alice went back to the City of the Knights. As it turned out, he was in a panic over something Jack had said about trying to rebuild the Knights, and he was absolutely terrified that he wasn't good enough to teach the future generations. Alice eventually managed to talk him back into contact with the government using the sentiment that if he didn't at least try, there would be no others.

Her mother spent whatever time she wasn't in session with Jack to finish grooming Sylvie to be her replacement; likewise, her father divided her time between devising ways to make Tea withdrawal more bearable and teaching Snapper to be his replacement. For herself, well: she was the Oyster who'd been a Suit who'd helped the Resistance overthrow the Queen. She was Alice. When she hadn't been handling Charlie, she'd been making sure that Uthar could handle the police deck under the regime, calming protests before they could get out of hand. She was at every press statement to answer questions, the number of correspondents growing with each release. She'd gone to visit the families of the Suits she'd killed to apologize, and managed to dodge most of the heavy objects that were thrown at her. It was a small wonder the three of them had managed to see one another at all, but they managed.

Hatter, though, had gone back to see if his shop was still standing and for all that she'd seen and heard of him from various parts of the new government, he'd not sought her out since. She wasn't sure what to make of it. They'd been through quite a lot together, tumbled into each other's secrets, and fought for each other's lives; but what did that make them, exactly?

She'd almost given up on finding an answer to that question when the day they were to return to Earth finally rolled around. They'd decided against going back to the date they'd been kidnapped; it would be too difficult to explain the fact that Dad had gone grey overnight, or the wrinkles around Mom's eyes developing in the same time frame, let alone Alice's sudden transition from child to woman. They picked the day after Agent White had found Jack, instead, and were just waiting for the Eggmen to finish with their adjustments when Hatter finally arrived.

"Hello!" he said cheerfully as he walked into the Looking Glass room. "I, uh- I got your note."

"Did you get my present?" Alice asked.

"Yeah thanks," he told him, smiling nervously. "I needed new body armor."

They smiled at each other, more out of social nicety than anything else. This… wasn't actually resolving anything at all.

"I brought you something too," Hatter said after a moment, and Alice belatedly realized that he was holding a book. She took, smiling genuinely when she saw the title: Alice in Wonderland.

"I figure this belongs to you," Hatter said.

"Thank you," she said.

"No, really," Hatter took the book back for a moment and opened it up so she could see the writing on the inside cover. "I'm pretty sure this is yours."

Her father had never had the neatest of writing, so it took her a moment to decipher the words. _For my own Alice, and all the adventures she'll have. Love, Daddy._

Alice stared at it as she tried to swallow past the lump in her throat.

"I, uh," Hatter looked past her, to where her father was standing. "I've got your copy of Mother Night too, I think. But I'm sort of in the middle of that, so I'll have to-"

"We're ready for you now," the technician interrupted.

"Oh, really?" Hatter said, sounding disappointed as she took the book back and helped her parents collect their bags. "I was just- well, goodbye then."

"Goodbye Hatter," Alice replied. "And thanks. For, you know, everything."

Hatter nodded, and rubbed the back of his neck, before gesturing to the Looking Glass.

"Just remember to breathe," the technician said, placing his hand on Mom's back and gave her a push forwards.

_Frag this._ Alice decided. _I'm going to be on another planet, if this doesn't work out I can always avoid him._

She turned around as her father went through and called out, "Hatter!"

Hatter had been walking towards the door, but her spun around at her cry. She dashed towards him; her duffle bag bumped against her back when she skipped to a stop right in front of him. She wound a hand around the back of his head and pulled him down for a kiss. For a moment, he froze, but before she could regret it, he surged forwards, one of his hands coming to rest on the small of her back to press her closer.

They pulled apart after a minute, flushed and breathless.

"…are you still leaving, Alice?" the technician asked pointedly.

"Are you coming to return Dad's book?" Alice asked Hatter.

"Oh absolutely," Hatter said fervently. "You just try to keep me away."

"Then," Alice pulled back. "I'll be seeing you."

"See you later," Hatter replied as she returned to the Looking Glass.

Alice spared him one more look over her shoulder; the giddy expression on his face was the last thing she saw before she plunged through the Looking Glass and fell back to Earth.


	8. Ten of Cups

_**TEN OF CUPS**_

_Upright__ - Lasting happiness and security, although sometimes this may be indicative of being in a rut. Good reputation and honour, true friendship and happy family life. Perfect love and concord between people. A search for fulfillment is marked with success. A peaceful and secure environment._

_Reversed__ - The manipulation of society for personal gain. Loss of friendship. Family quarrels, Sudden violent disruption of an ordered environment and ordered routine, anti-social actions. Look for signs of new adolescents or new births._

When Alice was twenty-four years old, she returned home.

_"Not to sound unsupportive at this point, but are you sure you want to take the job?"_

_"Yeah. Why? Did you not want me to take it? Because it's a little too late for me to take it back."_

_"Hell no! I'm just thinking- you'll sort of be my boss then."_

_"And?"_

_"It'll make meetings very distracting. Or very fun. One of the two."_

She'd tried to fit herself back in on Earth, she really had. The adjustment had been hard on everyone at first; not only had they changed, but Earth had as well. Doctor Who had been revived, and Star Trek was off the air once more. People got their news from Comedy Central. Everyone they saw carried their phones around with them, phones which also often accessed the internet, played music, and took pictures. They'd missed three presidential elections, two wars, and the reason why there was a hole in the New York City skyline. Their yellow house with Dinah's grave in the back had long since been sold to another family. Dad's mother had died while they were gone; Mom's parents refused to believe they were alive at first. Affective neuroscience had changed and expanded, leaving some of her father's theories in the dust. Mom would have to rebuild the reputation and network of her psychiatry practice up from scratch again.

But her parents had managed to overcome most of the obstacles in their path. They moved into an apartment in the city, and settled into urban life easily enough. They'd found Nana Ruth's grave, and left stones to mark the fact that they'd been there and mourned. They drove down to Florida (for a given value of the word 'drive') and nearly given Grandpa Sam and Grandma Adele a heart attack when they show up on their front porch. Dad found a job at the City College of New York, and spent his free time catching up in his field, pouring over the works of Jaak Panksepp, Antonio Damasio, and the like. As much as she often expressed guilt over it, the returned Oysters provided Mom with a steady base of patients for her practice. The moved forwards, and if they weren't where they'd thought they'd be, there were at least on the right track.

Readapting wasn't so easy for Alice.

_"I don't know why I thought things would be the same. I mean, I didn't, really: the world changed a lot between the time I was born and the time I was kidnapped."_

_"But you weren't expecting the changes to really affect you as much as they are."_

_"Yeah."_

For one thing, she quickly realized that there wasn't a back for her to get to. Her parents had careers, interrupted as they'd been to build upon. The last time Alice had been on Earth, she'd been in elementary school, been a Girl Scout, had sleepovers and camp outs and felt the thrill of the forbidden when she watched PG-13 movies. For another, she'd missed everything that was supposed to come in between ten and twenty three. She hadn't had her bat mitzvah, never learned to drive or gone to a homecoming game, hadn't gone to prom, graduated high school, applied to college, or any of the other things she would have expected to have done by now. True, they weren't strictly necessary; they'd never been an especially religious family, and she could still learn to drive and get her GED, but.

But.

They were just the most easily definable things on a very long list of things that didn't fit anymore. New York City wasn't very much larger than the City in Wonderland, but it felt bigger, and stranger, and more uncontrolled. People laughed and cried and shouted because as far as they knew that was just what you did in a city, no matter how much _Alice's_ instincts were screaming that if things didn't quiet down soon there were going to be more bloody riots. She didn't understand how the political system worked, and the fact that she didn't seem to need to unsettled her. Then there was the fact that everyone expected her to be a young adult, just starting to find her way, like every other twenty-something she avoided interacting with. In reality she'd been a full-fledged adult who had a career for years, and had been very good at her job.

_"Hey Alice. Did you ever read the Chronicles of Narnia before coming to Wonderland?"_

_"I think I saw the movie. Why?"_

_"No reason. It's just an interesting story; it's about these kids who fall into another world. And they save it, of course, and after they do so, they stay until they've grown up. And they rule over their country until one day they find their way back home, and when they stumbled out back into Britain- it's a British book you know- they're kids again."_

_"Wow, Hatter. That was about as subtle as a fireworks display."_

_"So do you want to borrow them for a read, then?"_

It wasn't like she hadn't thought about all the problems that would arise, especially in the time between the Casino falling and returning to Earth. She knew she was expected to start over, and she could accept being the rookie again. For some reason, though, she'd expected that she would be able to start being a rookie right away. She could pass just about every physical test anyone could think of, and at least on paper the NYPD ran under a similar philosophy to the one she'd wanted to run the Spades under. But before she could so much as apply, she would need either four years of college (her parents wanted her to go to college anyway) or four years of service in the military (that would probably give them simultaneous heart attacks). She was still trying to understand even half the stuff in her syllabus for the GED; she couldn't even imagine taking the harder courses at a university. She could ask the White Rabbit to change her records, to give her the GED or even the college credits, but after her parents had managed to build themselves back up without anything but the least amount of support from Wonderland it seemed like cheating. It also seemed like something that would be all-too-easy to fall apart- what would she do if she ran into someone who was supposed to have gone to college with her, and could call her bluff.

_"I really don't like the idea of you joining the military."_

_"You know, it wouldn't be that different from being a Spade. The Police deck wasn't even the safest Spade deck to be in, I'd say."_

_"Yes, but there aren't any bloody pirates in Wonderland, are there?"_

She took a job as a night guard, which was boring as all hell if still relevant to her interests. She thought about signing up for classes at a fighting school, but was discouraged by the fact that the first one she'd been to was the one Jenny worked at. She came home in the morning, and fell back into the easy habit of not talking about anything unpleasant.

Except for when she was with Hatter; if he hadn't been there, she probably would have imploded long ago.

_"Do you think it's wrong that I miss my life in Wonderland? I mean, I was a Spade. I hurt people for a living, and I never thought I enjoyed it."_

_"I don't know if it's wrong, exactly. I wouldn't say it was surprising, though._

_"Oh?"_

_"Some days… I really miss my shop."_

He'd come to visit the day after they returned, Mother Night in hand and some pretty interesting ideas about pizzerias she needed to set straight. Then he came back with news on the few Tea addicts that were still lingering around when they'd left Wonderland, and she'd taken the opportunity to introduce him to the wonders of falafel. From there, the excuses became more and more bizarre, until she came out of the bathroom to find Dad was threatening to slip something nasty in Hatter's tea if he was seriously considering taking her out to wrangle unicorns in the sewers.

_"There aren't actually unicorns in the sewers, are there?"_

_"Not too many- the alligators keep them in check. Here's a better question: when are we telling your parents I'm the new Agent White?"_

_"The day after never."_

_"So, next time?"_

_"Let me take you to IHOP first."_

Hatter grounded her. When she felt like the world was spinning too fast he grabbed hold of her hand and didn't let go. It was easier to see the things on Earth that were good when he was around, easier to believe that she could make a life for herself here when he kissed her.

He also brought her letters from Wonderland; just rolled up bits of parchment from Charlie ("The children and I repelled a bandersnatch incursion along the northern perimeter today. Kestrel was scratched rather badly, but she was very stoic about being stitched back up."), short status reports from Jack ("The current tally is Assassins 0 King 47. I should probably find that comforting, but it mostly just worries me.") and Uthar ("There was almost a stampede down by the docks today- we could have used you to help calm everyone down as they tried to get on the boats.") at first. Eventually she began to get letters from Grace ("If I have to explain to one more person that one of the very few things Duchess and I shared was a taste in clothing, I'll scream.") and Cricket ("You know, I think I preferred when Jack and Grace were nauseating. Now all they do is dance circles around each other, which still makes me stick without being sweet as well."). She even got something like a thank you from Carlotta ("Word on the street is that I owe you for my spiffy new beauty parlor. It used to be a Tea Shop, if you can believe it.") and something that was as close to an apology as she could get from Othello ("My son's name is Wyatt, and he'll be turning two soon. The only thing Jacinta and I can get him to eat is mashed radishes."). She lived for these letters; when Hatter wasn't around, out on business for the White Rabbit or back in Wonderland, they kept her moving forwards. Charlie was crazy, Jack was new, Uthar was old, Grace was still trying to mend, Cricket was caught in his own head, Carlotta had a lot of adjustments to make, and Othello had been busted down to Six and was on probation. They were all making their way. She could at least try.

After all, how hard could life on Earth be after Wonderland?

And then one day Hatter showed up with a letter from Jack. It wasn't his normal notes, which she sometimes got the impression were lists of snarky thing he scribbled during meetings and sent to her on a lark. It was an offer; Uthar no longer felt up to the task of being his Trump of Defense, and she was his first pick for a replacement.

In hindsight, she really should have taken Hatter up on his offer to accompany her to dinner when she broke the news to her parents.

"We just got out," Dad hissed, after making sure that the family seated at the next table over wasn't eavesdropping. "Why on Earth would you want to go back?"

"Because I don't belong on Earth anymore," Alice replied.

"Honey," Mom began. No one called her Jellybean anymore. "Is this about your GED? If you're getting discouraged-"

"No, it's not about that, _really_." Alice took a sip of the water their waitress had poured for her when they'd been given their menus. "Living there was different for me than you, I think. It wasn't all bad- I had friends, and a career. I knew what I was doing, even when it only got people hurt. I don't know who I am here."

"You're our daughter," Dad said.

"And?" Alice asked.

"Are you ready to order?" interrupted their waitress.

Dad mumbled something about appetizers and mozzarella cheese sticks until she went away again.

"Wonderland feels more real," Alice tried to explain. "And, I owe it something. I lived there for years and I helped the Queen tear it to bits. If I take the position, I can help put it back together."

"You were kidnapped," Mom said. "You were forced into a very difficult situation and did what you had to in order to survive. It's not your fault."

"Very few people would have become Suits if there had been other options available," Alice said. "That doesn't make us any less responsible for what we did."

Her parents were silent against the constant babble of their fellow restaurant goers. Two booths down, a toddler began to shriek that he wasn't leaving without pie.

"You'll visit," Dad said. "And you'll write often. And maybe whisper in Jack's ear about getting some sort of phone connection through the Looking Glass."

"Yeah," Alice agreed. "I can do that."

"Think of the possibilities," Hatter said over her laughter. They were probably scaring the other Rabbits, but then again, they did have boss' prerogative. "There's the desk of course. And the chair, though I'm telling you right now, your chair isn't nearly as cool as mine."

Alice rolled her eyes as they walked to the Looking Glass chamber.

"And then there are filing cabinets," Hatter continued. He leaned closed, whispering directly into her ear. "The way things are set up now we could hide behind those without bothering to draw the curtains. It could be a game; we could see how long we could go until someone caught us."

"Hatter!" she spun around, trying not to smile. "You're-"

_I'm what?_ His expression asked. _Incorrigible? Sexy? Perfect?_

"You're supposed to be helping me move."

"What do you think I'm doing?" Hatter asked, sounding affronted.

"Trying to grab a quickie," Alice replied.

Hatter smirked, and they entered the Looking Glass chamber.

"The Looking Glass is all set, Ace," the technician said.

"Thanks, Kieran," Hatter replied. "Ready to get back to work? I'm sure someone will try to kill somebody important today."

"I can hardly wait," Alice said.

She watched Hatter step through, took a deep breath, and followed him home.

* * *

A/N: I still don't know how this exists. But it does, and I have my beta readers Lady Irish Rose and LlamaCatastrophe to thank for making this as coherent as it is. Thank you both so much. Thanks also to whoever managed to read this monster. Feel free to drop me a line and let me know what you think!


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